The Swifting
by dferveiro
Summary: Complete! A strange woman comes across orcs and two childlike beings, and intervenes, only to be accosted by an eored of Rohan. Now she finds herself in the middle of a war she wants no part in, and with a certain marshall. Eomer, OC, during and after Two
1. Default Chapter

**The Swifting**

Night was a comfort to more than just monsters and fearful creatures. It was her blanket, that shielded her from curious eyes, from misunderstanding peoples. And Selanae had met her share of such.

The hooded cloak she wore flapped as a breeze swept across the land. The plains spilled below her as she surveyed the land from her spot on rocky terrain. It was calm out there. The sky was clear and the moon shone on all that went on.

Or didn't go on. It was indeed quiet. Just as Selanae liked it.

Another breeze came, this one harsher and suddenly cold. She frowned and grabbed the hood of her cloak to keep it from blowing off. Her eyes didn't leave the plains.

Suddenly she saw movement off almost out of view. Whatever it was, it was large, or a group of creatures, moving quickly. She could hear the rumble of steps. Her eyes narrowed. Night, it seemed, was indeed giving cover to these beasts.

They stopped at the edge of the plains where forest began. Selanae wondered why.

She moved closer, following the bordering rocks as much as she could. The closer she was to the creatures, the louder they were to hear. It wasn't much longer before she knew what they were.

Orcs.

Immediately a disgusted smirk seized her lips. Orcs were nuisances. How often they appeared and had to be slaughtered. It bothered Selanae. She sighed into the wind and crouched down to the rocks.

There were probably a hundred or more of them. They squabbled and fought amongst themselves, though not enough to kill each other. Selanae frowned. She would have liked that.

Suddenly two creatures caught her attention, not for their vileness or foul smell, but for their innocence and size. Her breath caught in her throat.

They must have been but children! Their small limbs were bound, and even now an orc taunted them.

Selanae pulled her bow off her shoulder, along with an arrow. She got up so she kneeled, facing the offending orc. With her eyes wide and open, she released the arrow.

The orc fell, and suddenly all of them were in an uproar. They looked around for but a moment before fighting amongst themselves. Selanae smiled, especially as she saw the two children crawl away from the group.

_Good_, she thought. _Move faster._ She frowned. Another orc was following them, seeming to slink off after them quite intentionally without any of the others knowing. Selanae readied another arrow.

The orc fell, and the group's uproar suddenly broke up from among themselves. The orcs turned outward scanning the plains and forest's edge. Selanae pressed herself to the rocks and stared ahead. Her second arrow hinted that it wasn't one of the orcs who'd killed another. Selanae hadn't expected that rouse to last anyway—just long enough for the children to escape.

She couldn't see them anymore. If they made it to the forest, they could hide, and from the looks of it, they had to have been that far at least. Her eyes darted back to the main group. The orcs fanned out and started to search. Their swords were drawn.

Selanae smirked at them. They wouldn't find her.

Suddenly an arrow clattered against the rocks, right next to her. Selanae jerked back from it, and quickly glanced to the orcs.

In the moonlight, she could see their teeth gleaming with slobbery spit.

She glared at them, all of them, and got to her feet. She'd meant to elude them, but suddenly an orc was up on the rocks, a stone's throw away from her. He was smaller, with two different sized ears and a nasty grin. His crude sword was drawn, pointed at her. Selanae rolled her eyes at him and took a running leap off the rocks.

Her landing was a bit rough, but Selanae shook it off as she got to her feet, ready to face the orcs. They charged her, and she calmly drew her sword.

When they were close enough, Selanae charged back. Her sword singed the air as she swung it hard, hitting an Orc on the head. A loud clang of metal cued his death, especially as her hit continued past his helmet.

She wasn't oblivious to the fact that she was surrounded. It fueled her, and she found herself dancing around as she fought. Her blade sliced through the air and stabbed into orc flesh, even as she artfully dodged attacks and twisted her body gracefully just out of reach of a sword's end.

She kicked her legs high and plowed her elbows into the masses around her. She jumped backwards, flipping her body away from an attack.

And then she knew she'd made a mistake. She was too close to the others, and to make up for it, she raised her blade.

An orc swung his blade down hard on her. His crushing blow sent her blade from her hand. Selanae gasped, but quickly swallowed and readied herself. Even weaponless, she was not helpless.

A horse's cry alerted her, and as she risked a glance towards the animal, she saw several soldiers and horses, plowing through the orcs. The orcs around her started to divide up.

But she still faced several.

The sounds of the battle left her ears as she fought. The orcs swung their swords, aiming to cut her in two, but Selanae merely leapt from their aim. Her cloak was torn as it swayed behind her, the fabric not as fast as she. Selanae followed the swing of one of her attackers and as it carried on past her, she leaned her body back as she kicked forward.

She began to spin around, kicking at targets and felling them, even if not mortally. She started to hit out with her hands, bringing them down on the orcs or hard into their sides. Soon the crowd around her diminished until she realized the battle was over.

Soldiers stood around her and the fallen orcs, some not noticing her yet. That was fine by her. Selanae began searching for her sword, ready to leave as soon as she found it.

But she wasn't completely unnoticed.

"You fight strangely, lad. Who do you serve?" someone demanded, and she heard the fresh sing of a blade being drawn.

Slowly, Selanae turned to the source. Her head was still covered by the hood and she peaked from it to see a broad-shouldered man, atop his horse.

A soldier. Probably the leader of the group. Selanae sighed and sheathed her sword.

"Let me pass," she said, and then nothing more. She started to move past the soldier, but suddenly he jumped off his horse, into her path. On instinct, her hand went for her blade, but she stopped herself as she saw the man's readiness to run her through.

"I asked who you serve, lad. Are you friend or foe?" he said, his voice low and menacing. Selanae stared at him with cold eyes.

"That is no business of yours," she said back, equally menacing in her tone. "Now let me pass." With that, she changed directions, ready to find a different way into the forest and after the children she'd seen.

"Rohirrim!" the soldier bellowed. All the horses with their soldiers came their way, circling her. Spears were aimed at her, and she found no more than an arm's length of breadth around her. Selanae spoke quickly but forcefully.

"I seek not to be your enemy, but if you press me so, you will find yourself on the wrong end of a sword."

A chuckle rippled through the soldiers, but their leader remained stone-faced. He held his sword up to her neck. "If you will not answer to me, you will not answer at all." He lowered the blade and ordered: "Bind and gag him!"

Selanae spun her body quickly, lashing out with her right leg and hitting three men with it before the soldiers tackled her. She struggled against them, but so outnumbered and so confined, she failed.

She hated when that happened.

As the men wrestled her to her feet, her hood fell back, and a collective gasp went through the men. The leader heard it and turned to see the cause.

Her brown hair wasn't the customary length for women, but they undoubtedly realized her gender from her simple but pretty face and her vibrant but dark eyes.

"Eomer?" one of the men said, though Selanae didn't know what Eomer meant until the leader reasserted his command.

"The order stands," he said between clenched teeth. Usually when someone discovered she was a woman, they apologized or backed off. But this Eomer merely seemed more angered by it. Selanae didn't understand why. She was hoisted to a riderless horse, her hands bound in front of her and a strip of cloth placed firmly over her mouth.


	2. The Slippery Captive

**a/n:** I'm not an expert about LOTR, so I hope my characters are correct. If not, forgive me, but enjoy the story just the same. Reviews are greatly appreciated.**  
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**The** **Slippery Captive**

"Sir?" Eothain asked. Eomer glanced at him as they rode. Eothain ventured a quick look at the woman before turning back to the marshall.

"What is it?" Eomer asked.

"Do you mean to treat her so?" Eothain asked. Immediately his face flushed. He hadn't meant to challenge the marshall, but luckily, Eomer did not take offense.

"She may be a woman," Eomer said, "but she fought . . . beyond the means of any human I have seen."

Eothain frowned. "You think she is an elf?"

Eomer shook his head. "No, she doesn't appear to be one." He motioned at his ears as an example. "I think her far more dangerous than any elf."

"My lord?"

Eomer stared out over the plains, but didn't see them. His mind replayed the skirmish with the orcs, and seeing this strange person dancing among them, somehow slaying some in the process.

"She may be a witch."

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Selanae wasn't sure where they were riding to—the night air was at its coldest now, and she tired of the shivers that plagued her. The speed of the Rohirrim made it that much worse.

But suddenly Eomer, the leader, shouted something she didn't understand, and the soldiers stopped. One of them next to her stopped her horse as well.

"We rest for a few hours!" Eomer commanded. Immediately the soldiers bustled around, organizing the horses and bedrolls into some semblance of order. The soldier next to Selanae dismounted, and she took a moment to look around. Almost everyone had dismounted. She smiled for a second, but quickly hid it as the soldier came to her side, undoubtedly to help her down.

She kicked him in the head and dug her heels into the horse she rode. It neighed furiously but darted off into the night.

She heard the shouts behind her, but it only made her smile. She pulled the gag from her mouth, and then she leaned forward on the horse, pressing her body against his neck. The horse charged ahead, but she heard another set of hooves not far behind.

Someone shouted. What he said, Selanae didn't know, but suddenly her horse slowed down. She scowled at the beast and glanced over her shoulder.  
Eomer.

He annoyed her. To make it worse, he wasn't alone. Two other soldiers chased with him.

Selanae slid off the horse as soon as it slowed to a trot. Her body hit the ground, but she rolled the impact off and quickly got to her feet. She ran, darting away from the trotting of hooves around her.

A horse and rider cut her off from the left, and before she could cut right, another herded her. Selanae was about to turn back when Eomer boxed her in.

He muttered a rough command, something foreign she didn't understand, and the two soldiers moved their horses closer, tightening the trap to immobilize her. Selanae tried to step in any direction for more room, for an escape, but she was met on every side with horse flesh. She fought the stifling panic that started to come over her, punishing it with a ferocious howl.

It startled the soldiers, but not the horses, which almost made Selanae laugh. Suddenly, though, the two soldiers each grabbed an arm. Selanae struggled and then let her weight drop. As the soldiers attempted to hoist her up, she swung from their grips and kicked up at their leader.

Eomer grunted as her feet connected with his chest, and he fell off his mighty horse. The horse moved out of position, and it took little after that for Selanae to wriggle free from the soldiers' grasp.

An explosion of pain went through her head and she even could hear a thud as one of the soldiers brought the hilt of his sword down on her. Selanae crumbled, and consciousness began to come and go.

She tried to stay awake and pay attention, but she couldn't very well. The soldiers and Eomer spoke back and forth, but none of it made sense. They dragged her a bit, and suddenly she was flying and then dropped on the back of a horse. She became lost to the world as the horse darted back to the camp.

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"Make sure she doesn't go free," Eothain hissed at three soldiers who had the watch. He shot a suspicious look to the sleeping form of the woman, and then moved to the fire by Eomer.

The marshall tilted his head in greeting, but didn't look away from the woman. A seething look of anger remained on his face. The woman lay awkwardly, almost as if dropped. Well, she had been. Eomer was anything but gentle, especially after the trouble she'd caused. Her hands were bound still, as were her feet now too. The gag was in place as well. Eothain frowned at that, and Eomer knew what he was thinking.

"If she is a witch, I do not want her speaking curses at us," Eomer said. Eothain nodded slowly.

"You still think she is a witch?" he asked. Eomer didn't say anything. "Is it safe to take her with us?"

Eomer sighed, and looked to the fire. The orange glow danced in his dark eyes. His blonde hair slid forward and veiled his face as he leaned towards the flames, his elbows against his knees.

"I know what I saw. Never has a woman, or any human, fought like that."

Eothain started to say something but choked on his words. Eomer raised an eyebrow at him and frowned. His friend and fellow soldier cleared his throat and fought his nerves.

"My lord—"

"We grew up together, Eothain. Forgo the formalities," Eomer chastised.

"Yes, Eomer," the man said with a sigh. "I was going to say . . . if the woman was fighting the orcs, couldn't that mean . . ."

It was Eomer's time to sigh again. "I have thought on that. And since she was too obstinate to tell me her purpose, I have come to decide she must have been in league with them still—an enemy posing as a friend."

That spurred silence and questions but Eothain had the good sense not to push it. Even so, Eomer realized how ridiculous it sounded.

"No matter who she is," he said, "something is not right about her. Perhaps she is from the south, one of the Haradrim, or a Corsair . . ."

Something rustled behind him, and Eomer was on edge enough to reach for the hilt of his sword. But he halted as he saw it was the woman, merely shifting in her unconscious state.

Something about her unsettled him. Threatened him. Maybe threatened everyone. Her demeanor challenged him, and it was her refusal to tell him anything that made him certain she was bad.

But her brown hair and her pale face, even slightly caked with blood from the blow his men dealt her, showed a beauty that he didn't expect in evil. And certainly he didn't expect it in any living thing he found on the battlefield.

He sighed again and moved from the fire without a parting word to Eothain.


	3. Fellow Enemies

**a/n:** I'm hoping I actually get some response from these postings. I have 75 of this story done, so I have more, but if no one likes it, I won't waste my time posting. Please let me know!

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**Fellow** **Enemies**

Pink and fiery rays from the sun lit the early morning sky. Selanae tried not to stare at it. There were more important things she should pay heed to as the soldiers packed up to leave. But her eyes seemed stuck on the beautiful colors above her. Something about it was strangely peaceful, even though some people would believe it indicated bloodshed. She could care less what things 'meant.' She lived for what she wanted to—regardless of superstition or popular belief.

The ground crunched slightly behind her, and Selanae cocked her head slightly but didn't turn her head. Whoever it was would probably harass her about her gag being off, even though a soldier had come by to cut the binds on her feet so she could ride with the Rohirrim. He hadn't even blinked an eye at it.

"I'll give you another chance," came a voice. She grimaced at the sound. She hated this man, this Eomer. "Who are you, and what was your reason to be out in that field?"

She fought the desire to spit at him.

"I'll give _you_ another chance to let me go," Selanae countered. "You had no business to take me captive." She turned from the peace of the sky and glanced at the marshall. His eyes held a fire within them and she could see his teeth as he seethed at her.

"I have every right to take you captive," he said. "I patrol these lands, and keep them safe from those who would harm my people." His jaw was taut and his fists clenched at his sides. Selanae observed his stance with a measure of amusement.

"Who said I would harm your people?"

Eomer glared at her. "You have not denied it either." He took a step towards her, his features hardening even more. "Tell me: who do you serve?"

His tone was entirely serious, and she knew it. But she couldn't help it. A laugh escaped her throat. _Serve?_ _How ridiculous!_ Before she could come up with a smart reply, Eomer grabbed her by the elbow and shook her.

"If you will not answer to me, you will face the king of Rohan," Eomer hissed. "And he is not nearly so compassionate as he used to be." A flash of bitterness came to his eyes, but he blinked it away before Selanae could make sense of it. Eomer turned to a soldier and shoved Selanae towards him. "Tie her to the saddle. She will not escape today."

He took the moment to glare at her again, and Selanae found herself glaring back.

As they started riding out, Selanae's eyes stared at Eomer. He was unusually hostile. In all her days of travel, she'd come across many strangers. Not all were pleasant, but so openly contentious and mean . . . she wondered if she'd stumbled into some large scheme. Maybe Eomer was an enemy, and not just because of his cruel manner.

Selanae put her mind at rest and just let herself observe for now. She would have her moment.

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It wasn't quite noon when the Rohirrim's pace was interrupted by a shouted inquiry. The soldiers around Selanae directed her horse to the side as the rest of the group surrounded the inquirer.

Selanae found her curiosity peaked. She sat up on the horse, trying to get a better look.

It was a man, a blond elf and a short, bearded man. She guessed that last to be a dwarf. The man spoke with Eomer, and though it seemed heated for a moment, Selanae was shocked to see Eomer lighten up.

She despised him even more. He took her captive, but with a company of three (that was indeed strange with a man, elf and dwarf) he was at ease?

"They would have appeared as merely children to your eyes," the scruffy man said. Selanae raised an eyebrow. Eomer shook his head.

"We left none alive," he said. She rolled her eyes. _She_ was alive, if she wasn't mistaken. The company of three looked shocked, mournful even. Selanae cleared her throat loudly.

"The children live," she voiced so all could hear. Eomer's head snapped in her direction. His glare didn't escape her notice, but she kept her head high. The man and elf stared at her. She saw the man's eyes flicker to the bindings around her wrists, and then suspicion followed. Anger started to flood her, but she pushed it aside. "The orcs had them, but during the skirmish, they escaped to the forest."

No man said a word, but just all stared at her strangely. She turned in her saddle and looked behind her, wondering if perhaps there was another reason everyone stared.

"Who is she?" the man asked somewhat quietly to Eomer. _This should be fun_, she thought, waiting and straining to hear the marshall's reply. But the marshall took the man aside and their words were too quiet to hear.

They kept glancing at her, and Selanae got tired of it quickly. Had they never seen a woman before? She almost snorted at that.

The man walked to her, his face hard. He was trying to be brave, it seemed, and Selanae couldn't help but smirk at the effort.

"Tell me what you saw," he demanded. No questions or introductions, just demands. Selanae fought to keep her calm.

"I've told you," she said simply. "Orcs held them. And the children—"

"Hobbits," the man corrected. Selanae stared at him but continued.

"—escaped into the forest."

The man eyed her. His dark hair was worse off than her own, though he didn't seem to care at all. "What were you doing there, that you saw the hobbits among the orcs?"

She knew what he was getting at, although she was tired of the questions. She sighed.

"I happened by," Selanae said. "I saw the orcs. And then I saw the . . . hobbits. No creature should be left to suffer what orcs would have in store for them."

The man's features softened. He shifted his weight. "You fought the orcs?"

Selanae had never been one to boast. She didn't answer.

"Were the hobbits . . . safe?" the man asked next. Selanae noticed his eyes—stormy but light blue. The intensity behind them was such that she could not be defiant anymore.

"I do not know," she said quietly. "I meant to find them." Her eyes flickered to Eomer, and a funny taste came to her mouth.

The man didn't say anything for a moment, but just studied her. She didn't much care for it. For some reason, she felt self-conscious, especially since she was bound.

"I am Aragorn," the man said, giving a slight bow to her. She thought that was a bit funny but nodded back. "What is your name?"

Her eyes flickered to Eomer again. He would hear her name, and that bothered her. But she relented. "Selanae."

Aragorn nodded. "And where are you from?"

She straightened up in the saddle, and pressed her lips tightly together. She did not like this. Aragorn seemed harmless towards her, but he was fishing, and she didn't like being tricked or made to do anything. She didn't answer, for several reasons.

He frowned but didn't blow up like Eomer often did. He merely turned back to the elf and dwarf.

"To the forest," he said. Eomer stepped forward and called two horses, offering them to Aragorn. The two men spoke some more, again in hushed tones. Selanae lost interest and stared at the elf.

He stared at Aragorn, listening in on the conversation. Even so, he seemed to sense that he was being watched and suddenly shifted his gaze to her. Selanae almost turned away, but instead stared back, challenging. His blue eyes were light and clear, not so confused as the man's. The elf seemed to study her like the man had done, but he eventually smiled.

That confused her, enough that she looked away.

The company of three went on their way, and so did the Rohirrim. Where they were going, Selanae still didn't know. But something was different. She was still surrounded by the soldiers, but Eomer rode alongside her. She frowned.

The marshall signaled to his men, and they parted slightly, giving her more space. Eomer remained close.

"I did not know of any other among the orcs," he said, his voice low and stuffed with pride. He coughed. "You sought to help them."

He waited for her to confirm that. Selanae didn't say a word but nodded her head ever so slightly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Eomer asked. His voice wasn't tough anymore, but bitter. Selanae sighed to herself. The bindings around her wrists chaffed at her skin and she flexed her hands, trying to loosen the rope.

"I don't know you, as enemy or friend," she said. "I don't tell anyone what I don't have to."

"Then you will not tell me what your purpose is in these lands? Or what manner you used to fight those orcs?" he asked, his jaw hard and square.

Selanae sighed and stretched out her fingers. "Would you, if you were in my position?"

"I am no threat to any force of good," he said, a little offended. Selanae marveled at how stubborn he was. Every word he uttered was thick with defiance and unyielding.

"What do you want to hear?" she asked. Her nerves were wearing thin. "What would ease you enough so I could go free?"

Eomer was silent. He stared ahead at the land in front of him, and in his eyes she saw a faint sadness. He rode his horse with ease, and it was so natural to him that the constant jostling did not interrupt his thoughts.

"You are strange to me," he said. Selanae quirked a smile at that. "I am no novice at war, at battle. I have fought many foes. But never have I seen any such technique. It seemed unnatural, and yet . . . magical. And to come from a woman . . ."

_Ah_, Selanae thought. _'Woman.'_ It was always an issue with these battle-hardened soldiers. It's why she normally stayed out of sight.

Eomer cleared his throat. "If you offer no explanation, I have no choice but to keep you with our company until I reach a decision."

She fumed at that, but muttered between clenched teeth: "A decision on what?"

Eomer looked directly at her, his eyes small with suspicion yet again. "What to do with you." With that, the stubborn man rode ahead to lead the Rohirrim.

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"She's hiding something," Eomer said to his friend. "I've given her every opportunity to tell me, to give me a reason to release her, and she refuses."

Eothain couldn't help but grin. "Maybe she wants to stay."

Eomer shot him a glare. "She hides something because she has to, and I fear that it threatens Rohan." It was Eothain's face that clouded over though.

"Then why did you let the man, elf and dwarf pass?"

Eomer didn't like being questioned, even by his friend. He was the Third Marshall of the Mark, and even banished from Rohan, his authority was not to be contested.

"They are not threats," he said. "They explained themselves, unlike the girl—Selanae." He frowned. It was an odd name, one he had not heard before. He wasn't even sure what the origin was. That also bothered him. He had no idea where she came from.

"I do not think she is a witch," Eothain said, his tone a little more humble. Eomer was grateful for that—he had enough problems without his friend and right-hand man challenging him.

Eomer nodded.

"I agree," he said. "I'm more certain that she is from one of the distant lands. A Corsair or Haradrim. Perhaps further than that."

"Do you think she could be a Dunlending?"

The mere name of Rohan's neighboring enemy made Eomer want to spit. Even so, he shook his head.

"If she were, she would have acted differently, especially towards an eored," Eomer said. Eothain nodded.

"I do not know who she is," Eothain said. "But perhaps the next few days will inspire some confidence from her."


	4. Trickery

**Trickery**

Horse, horses, and more horses. All these men did was ride. Did they never tire of it? Selanae longed to walk, even if it meant taking much longer on this journey to nowhere. She shifted in the saddle, though not much since she was tied down to it. How she longed for her sword. It was stowed with Eomer's horse. On more than one occasion she'd seen him admire it. The dragon-head hilt especially drew his attention.

She scowled at him as he led the group in the growing darkness. Would he ever _stop_?

As if sensing her complaint, the marshall held up his hand and ordered the men to stop for the night.

Five soldiers approached her, their swords drawn. She smirked at this routine they'd created—such caution, all for one woman. At least she was taken seriously. They cut the ties to the saddle and she dismounted carefully. Her body ached from riding, but she didn't let it show. The soldiers started walking, surrounding her with their bodies and swords. She went with them and sat where told.

She watched the men set up camp again, and eagerly awaited a fire to be set up. The warmth would help her muscles. She stretched out her bound hands, reaching for a void and pulling her muscles longer for a few moments before relaxing. She extended her legs, one at a time, and titled her foot back and forth, stretching the muscles on the back of her leg. Then she raised a leg up in the air until she felt a satisfying pull where her muscles ached from riding.

She smiled and leaned back, lying on the ground. It was quiet, and Selanae enjoyed it, even though she did not know her unusual nature drew attention.

A few hours later, most of the men were asleep, and Selanae was bound with her feet tied to a stake in the ground. A few patrolled the perimeter of the camp, watching for foes. One man kept his eyes on her, no doubt as a foe.

Selanae knew he'd been watching but chose to ignore it. However, one can only ignore that for so long. Her eyes snapped in Eomer's direction. She glared at him, and he stood from his bedroll and walked to her spot on bare ground. That reminded her . . . where had her things gone? She knew where the sword was, but the rest?

She scowled at the thought of losing her things.

As soon as he was in front of her, she asked him.

"Where are my things?"

Eomer frowned. "I know only of your sword." Selanae muttered to the ground. Where _were_ her things? Had she left them somewhere? _The orcs_. She'd dropped her things, except her weapons, when the orcs showed up.

"What is the significance of the dragon on the hilt?" Eomer asked. He was fishing again, and it drew a smile to Selanae's lips.

"Significance?" she repeated.

"Yes," he said. "Dragons have long been allied with the enemy. There are tales of the horror they wreak on civilizations."

Selanae chuckled at that, more to herself than to torment the marshall.

"It has no significance other than I liked it," she said with a smile. "Must everything point to some deeper meaning or alliance?"

Eomer frowned, but didn't answer that. "It is a good blade," he said, and Selanae supposed that was a compliment. She nodded.

"Do you still think I am your enemy?" she asked. He almost jerked at that. Maybe he hadn't expected her to be bold about it. Selanae grinned wider, especially since this man had no idea what he was up against.

Eomer stammered for an answer, and again it amused her. Where was the stubborn, defiant marshall? The confident and challenging man who didn't take no for an answer?

"I am unarmed," she said, interrupting whatever Eomer was trying to say. "Will you remove the bindings?" She held up her wrists for him to see. They were red, and some of her skin had been rubbed away. He winced upon seeing it, but hesitated. His eyes glanced to her feet, which were still tied to that stake in the ground.

He nodded and removed a dagger to cut the rope. She took note of where he put the dagger, by his leg, in his boot.

Selanae rubbed her wrists slightly. The air stung them, but it felt better than having the constant annoyance and lack of movement.

"Thank you," she said. Eomer nodded, and almost blushed. She fought back a smile. "So you are from Rohan? Tell me about the land."

His jaw almost dropped. He began to nod, but stopped. "Why do you want to know?"

Selanae put on a face of innocence. "Are you the only one who can ask questions?"

He frowned. His eyes darted around her, as if seeing if she had any advantage she could use. He failed to take into account her abilities.

Selanae suddenly jerked her feet up high, uprooting the stake. She spun on the ground and chopped at the back of his knees with her arm. He went down, and she grabbed the dagger from his boot.

She cut the ropes from her feet in seconds while Eomer yelled out. She turned back to him, diving at him with the dagger. Her body collided with his and they rolled over the uneven ground. Selanae stuck out a leg to stop their roll and with that control, she quickly put the blade to his throat.

His men were yelling out and scattering around her, and their marshall. She didn't see one sword undrawn. Even so, Selanae kept her arm tight around his neck, with the blade reaching for one side to start a long slit.

"Stand back, or your marshall suffers," Selanae ordered. The men did not move immediately. She began to draw the blade over his flesh.

He didn't cry out, and that impressed her. She didn't cut deep or much, just enough to show a little blood. His stoic stance though didn't help him. His men saw how serious she was, and stepped back.

They didn't lower their swords, and that was fine with her. She could only expect so much obedience, especially under these circumstances.

"You _are_ the enemy," he muttered. She rolled her eyes.

"You've _made_ me your enemy," she whispered roughly in his ear. She led him towards his horse and retrieved her sword carefully. The dagger never left Eomer's neck. She glanced behind her, where some soldiers stood. Behind them was the edge of a forest, and she had every intention of disappearing within it.

"Do not follow," she said loudly to the Rohirrim, "or his blood will leave a trail to his dead body." She backed up towards the forest, and the soldiers moved out of her way. Eomer was tense but he moved with her. His neck depended on it.

"Why not take the horse?" he whispered. It seemed like he didn't dare raise his voice beyond that, and that satisfied Selanae.

"You have the advantage where horses are involved," she said. She was amazed at how cheerful she sounded. Well, she was free. Not out of danger, but she was accustomed to that. They sank deeper into the forest, and the Rohirrim were out of sight. She knew they wouldn't just stay there. Speed now was of the utmost importance.

She released him, pushing him forward suddenly. She tossed the dagger up and caught it by the blade. Her arm was poised to throw it at him if he misstepped.

"Throw aside your sword," she ordered. She drew her own sword as well, just an extra incentive. Eomer glared at her, but unsheathed his sword. His eyes betrayed a sadness at parting with the blade. Even so, he tossed it aside.

He swiped a hand at his neck, smearing the bit of blood there.

"Now what?" he asked, trying to challenge her. She smirked at the attempt.

"Now we run." She pointed with her sword ahead, deeper into the forest. "Let's go."

He was too cautious as he ran, and it was slowing her down.

"Faster," she hissed behind him. She slapped the flat of the blade against his thigh. She could almost feel the hatred he exuded from that. But he picked up the pace, and Selanae followed.

She glanced behind her. No one followed, and she wanted to keep it that way. After running for a good half-hour though, Eomer stopped. She glared at him.

"Keep going," she ordered with a low voice. He leaned forward with his hands braced against his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

"They will not be able to follow so quickly," he said. "And I am tired."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't care. Move." She pointed towards a new direction. He sighed, but held up a hand. Slowly, he began to remove some of his armor. She thought he slept with that stuff on. Personally, she thought it was a waste—too exhausting when one's body could naturally dodge against arrows and blades. She shrugged to herself, and Eomer seemed relieved with the burden's removal. He began to trot. It was slower, but she allowed it. She felt fine, and she was enjoying herself immensely at his expense. _Nice to have our fates changed_.

He tripped a bit later, and though he tried to catch himself, Eomer fell to the ground on his back. Selanae grinned.

"I thought you'd fought in wars and battles and had met every foe imaginable," she mocked. "But you can't run for an hour?"

He glared at her from the ground. "I ran half way with armor that doubled my weight. You try doing that."

Selanae laughed, and he scowled even more. It was fun, to her, and the run had been refreshing after all that horse-riding. It felt good to laugh too. She was free.

Eomer, however, was not, and he didn't like it. _Too bad_, she thought. She glanced around them, and listened to the still night. There was no sound, not even wind or bird. That suited her fine.

She looked back to the marshall. His tunic was slightly torn from his fall. She smiled.

"Remove your tunic," she said. Eomer blanched at that. She stepped forward, her sword inching towards his body. "Now."

He grunted at her, but took off the tunic. He was left in a thin shirt, something that instantly allowed the night air to get to him. The shivering started quickly, and Selanae almost felt bad.

Almost.

She kept her eyes on him as she tore a long strip from the tunic. A fallen tree wasn't far away, and she motioned for him to go to it.

"Put your hands behind your back," she said, going towards him with the long strip of fabric. He sighed and tried to hide how mortified he felt. Selanae enjoyed every moment.

She tied the fabric around the log and then around Eomer's wrists. The knots were tight and pinched at his skin. She felt no sympathy for him—_he brought this on himself._

"You mean to leave me here?" he asked.

"I mean to escape," she said. "To go on my way, free like I was before. And not with you." She moved around to face him. She sheathed her sword and knelt in front of him. "I told you to let me go. I am no foe to Rohan, but if you or your men track me, I will be."

She took out the dagger, and his eyes followed it. But he almost jerked when she put it back in his boot.

"That looks like a family heirloom," she said. "It'd be a shame to lose it." She smiled at him, victorious, and ran away.

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_That was rewarding_, she thought to herself. She could still see him in her mind, tied to that tree. Probably shivering too.

_Serves him right_.

She stepped lightly but swiftly, moving through the woods. She deftly dodged trees and fallen limbs and roots. Her heart soared at the freedom she had—for years she wandered where she wanted to, and even two days without that tortured her. Especially in the company of such a terrible man.

She couldn't help but smirk. When his men found him, he would be so embarrassed. His pride would be destroyed. And for that to happen to a man of Rohan was quite a feat, from what she understood of the people.

Suddenly she stopped. Something was wrong. The air was unusually still and quiet, like it'd been before, but she could feel it. Something beyond wrong—something dangerous. Evil.

Selanae turned towards every direction, searching in the darkness. Her eyes moved to the ground.

Iciness came over her. Tracks covered the ground. Heavy tracks. Large tracks.

Orc tracks.

And they led all around. Selanae drew her sword.

But they weren't close. She could feel that at least.

Her heart skipped a beat. _Eomer_. As much as she hated the man . . .

She ran hard and fast back the way she'd come.

* * *

a/n: Any thoughts? Reactions? Let me know! 


	5. Preyed

**a/n**: Thank you for the reviews! I'd love to see more—so please keep it up! Here is another chapter, a rather long one, but hopefully you'll enjoy it all.

**Preyed**

At first he'd hoped the growling was a wolf. He could deal with such an animal. But the growling grew louder and surrounded him. Eomer searched the darkness. He didn't have to search hard. Eyes glowed back at him, and amidst the snarling, he knew he was in trouble.

He struggled harder against the shred of his tunic that bound him. Somewhere around him he heard the orcs snort at his predicament.

"What have we here?" a rough voice said. Garbled chuckles echoed him. The orcs came closer, and Eomer wiggled his nose at the smell. He pulled at the bindings, harder, even as they began to dig into his skin. He was fine with a cut or two, most certainly when death was the other option.

He wasn't afraid of orcs. He'd slaughtered thousands—well, at least hundreds—in his time. But facing a large group of them, unarmed except for the dagger he couldn't reach, and bound . . . well, the odds weren't in his favor.

"Rohan," one of them said. It came out like venom, and Eomer gulped. "A soldier? Or someone with rank?"

"Who cares."

They moved in on him, and Eomer's heart raced faster than any horse he ever owned. He began to think of all the things he'd seen Orcs do, all the remains of victims he'd found in burned villages.

One of them prodded him with a clawed hand. It clasped around his neck, and Eomer fought for breath against the pressure. He tried to pull away, but felt more of them around him. They snarled and laughed, enjoying the torment they subjected him to.

A sharp kick landed in his abdomen. Eomer wanted to crumple up but that orc still held him by the neck, cutting off his air. Suddenly he was released, and he received another kick, this one in his chest.

He groaned.

"What's your name?" one hideous beast demanded. Eomer gulped but didn't answer. He didn't dare look at them either. Somehow that made it worse—more terrifying.

"Let's play."

He hated whatever that meant. The orcs converged on him, beating him with their clawed hands and feet. The crude armor they wore hit against him too. The pain wasn't there, he tried to tell himself. But each hit and kick made it harder to believe.

One of them brought a blade in front of his face. The orc's sharp and uneven teeth showed in the scarce moonlight. The foul beast slid the blade along Eomer's chest. Eomer sucked in a breath, but soon found himself panting from the stinging pain. The orcs howled with pleasure at his torment. The foul one in front of him grinned, bearing those nasty teeth. He licked the blade.

"We take him to Sarumon!"

Roars of twisted excitement echoed through the forest. Eomer found himself suddenly cut free from the log but not his bonds. They picked him up by his arms, and for a few moments he was suspended by them. The awkward position hurt, straining his arms and almost tearing his shoulders. But soon he was dropped on his feet. The orcs prodded the hilts of their crude weapons in his back.

"Run, Rohirrim scum!" His pride and temper both flared at that, but he had no choice. He ran as best he could, hoping he would survive whatever was in store for him.

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Selanae could see the log ahead, the place she'd left him at. But Eomer wasn't there. Instead, she saw tracks—hundreds of footprints, a decent sized group of orcs. Selanae knelt by the log, where a remnant of Eomer's tunic lay discarded on the ground. Her fingertips touched it. The cloth was dirty from the ground leaves and bits of bark. It was also cool.

She narrowed her eyes. A faint breeze kicked up, and the trees seemed to breathe a doomed sigh. She bolted to her feet and in one motion swung her sword over her head and turned to face instinct.

"Do not move, sorceress! Or you'll find an arrow lodged in your throat." Whoever spoke was quite confident, and judging by the direction of his voice, he should be. As she glanced around, she saw several shadows emerge into soldiers. The voice came from behind her.

"Where is Lord Eomer!" the voice demanded. Before she could open her mouth, he slammed her in the back and she fell forward on all fours. The soldier circled in front of her.

Eothain. Leave it to the second-in-command to be the most upset about his leader's disappearance, when he should view it as an instant promotion.

"Orcs," she said. She heard curses around her, and felt a blade poke her in the back.

"Tell me something I do not know," Eothain demanded.

"I left him here for you to find," she said quickly. "I guess the orcs got to him first."

"You lie," Eothain seethed. "You were found among the orcs before. No doubt you serve with them, or even lead them." He spit in her direction. Selanae tried not to let her anger cloud her judgment.

"I do not lie!" she hissed at him. "If I were with the orcs, why would I still be here? Why would I come back to check on Eomer? I came to ensure the orcs did not kill him!"

Two soldiers behind her grabbed her and pulled her to her feet. She instantly wanted to struggle against them, but they held her fast, and all others had their swords or bows ready to stop her.

"Listen!" she said, her eyes flashing at them. "They have not killed him. I can track him and free him."

"If he's still alive," Eothain spat at her, "and you better pray that he is!"

Selanae rolled her eyes. "He must be alive, because his body isn't here! And why would they kill him now if they took pains to capture him?"

She expected some quick reply or retort, but suddenly the men were silent. She frowned.

"What?"

Eothain glared at her, and suddenly grabbed her by her shoulders, shaking her hard.

"You will lead us to him," he said forcefully. "And you will do nothing to deter us from freeing him. He'd better survive, for if not, not only would Rohan lose its Third Marshall, but also the heir to the very throne!"

Their pace began immediately, with Selanae leading the way. Her sword was in Eothain's possession. She didn't care for that, but under the circumstances, she had no choice. There was a degree of irony in this—now she led the way, running with eager soldiers practically cracking the whip behind her. She couldn't help but quirk a smile at how Eomer was in this very position, not too long ago.

She suddenly frowned at the thought. Eomer—she hadn't meant for this to happen. Despite his arrogance, she didn't wish death on him. He and his men were good men, soldiers just trying to protect their lands.

_A bit zealously, though_, she thought. And he was the future king of the country as well—that was unexpected.

Suddenly she stopped, and dropped to the ground. She felt Eothain's sword at her throat, until he saw what she did.

Then he dropped to the ground next to her.

Before them, where once trees grew tall and proud, was nothing but desolation, fire and orcs. A tall tower stood in the midst of the strange void. The orcs were not few in number—by far it was the largest host she'd ever seen.

"Saruman," Eothain muttered. "There must be ten thousand orcs there." The rumbling of their footsteps and howl of their growls on the wind made Selanae shudder. She wasn't one to fear orcs, but in such numbers . . . _why are they here?_

Or where were they going? The ten thousand orcs stomped over the desolate land, with black banners bearing a white hand waving over them. Large creatures and carts of weaponry mixed with the host.

Selanae suddenly did not care about the large army. All she saw was a group of orcs heading the opposite direction, towards the dark tower.

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Eomer winced as a fresh blow was dealt upon him. He staggered and tried to keep running to his death, but the sight of such a large army of Uruk Hai distracted him.

He knew what purpose such an army would serve. For months the Uruks had attacked his lands, his people, terrorized those under the rule of his uncle. And now, it seemed, Saruman would finally annihilate Rohan.

His heart constricted with the pain he felt. How he wanted to break free and stop this army, to save his people. _Eowyn_

Fear seized him. He didn't dare imagine what would become of her if Saruman defeated Rohan. And defeat was quite feasible, with his uncle weak and impressionable by the Worm.

A sharp kick at his legs sent Eomer forward and into the burnt dirt around the dark tower. He coughed into the earth and gasped for breath. The dirt went into his lungs, worsening it for him. Suddenly a large hand gripped him by the neck, lifting him up by the painful grip.

Eomer tried to struggle, but his hands were still bound behind his back, thanks to Selanae. The Uruk holding him sneered into his face.

"The White Wizard will want to see you," the Uruk growled. He tightened his grip around Eomer's neck before releasing him. "Take him to Saruman!"

Another ferocious yell from the Uruks, and Eomer found himself being lifted up. Despite the lack of energy, Eomer struggled against them. It was useless. They tossed him about like a sack of vegetables as they entered the dark tower and climbed high into it.

The darkness chilled Eomer instantly. There was no warmth here. Only evil and torment were present.

And then, suddenly, the situation worsened.

The Uruks dumped Eomer on the ground. He rolled a short distance before stopping at the feet of the man he despised almost more than Sauron.

"Grima!"

The ghostly pale Wormtongue just smirked back, his crooked and bluish teeth showing. Eomer wondered why he was here, other than being in league with Saruman.

"Eomer, son of Eomund," Grima greeted. "You cannot imagine how much pleasure this brings me." With a snap of his fingers, the Uruks left them. For a brief moment, Eomer considered it luck. He could defeat Grima, even bound.

But luck was not on his side. His eyes flickered to a new person in the room.

"Saruman," Eomer muttered. He tried to steel his resolve and courage, but he'd heard many tales of this wizard. And he'd seen what mayhem and death he was capable of. _Theodred_, Eomer thought. He'd carried his wounded cousin back to Edoras. Theodred was no doubt dead by now.

Now was not the time for grief. Saruman stepped forward, his hands clasped unnaturally in front of him as he moved.

"So this is Rohan's heir," the wizard said. "I must say I expected more. Why, I know not. Theodred proved little challenge at all. Why should his cousin be any different?"

Eomer gritted his teeth and sat up. He pulled at the strip of cloth that held him back. How he wanted to kill the men in front of him, slaughter them like they'd had orcs slaughter Theodred's men.

Grima slithered forward a step. "With Theodred gone, you are the next in line to the throne," he said, a fell grin on his black lips. "But if you are gone as well, Eowyn would be queen." Even as the mention of Eowyn, Grima's eyes flitted. It sickened Eomer. He got to his feet, stumbling a bit, but charged at Grima.

Before his shoulder could barrel into the Worm, Eomer felt some force hit him back. He flew across the dark room and hit the far wall. His body slid down it and impacted with the floor. Eomer grunted and winced at the pain that seized his body. Whatever it was that threw him so was dark.

He managed to open his eyes enough to see Saruman staring at him, amused.

"Your anger is so easy to predict, son of Eomund," he said. "Imagine how Rohan will fair without you, and in your place Eowyn as queen . . . with Grima leading as king."

Eomer wanted to scream and slaughter anything in reach. His breath was still short, and his body ached from the powerful attack from Saruman. He just shut his eyes, praying that Eowyn and all of Rohan would not suffer such a fate.

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Selanae grew impatient as the tower's land emptied of orcs. Well, it wasn't deserted, but the ten thousand were almost out of sight. She gripped her sword and swung it for good measure before sheathing it.

Eothain raised an eyebrow at her.

"You put away your sword as we go to battle?" he questioned. She glared at him.

"I put it away so I can move faster," she said. "Just remember to do you part, and do not worry about me."

"I don't," he said quickly with a scowl. "I worry for the Marshall."

Selanae sighed.

The tower's land was as empty as it would get for some time. Shrieks of orcs and beasts below the surface could be heard. Selanae could only imagine what was going on down there. She'd heard tales in her travels of the breeding of armies. The pit in front of them had to be for such a purpose.

Eothain whistled softly and signaled forward. The Rohirrim moved forward, their swords drawn. Selanae glanced over her shoulder and almost stopped. She hadn't realized how great their number really was. Perhaps this plan would work . . .

Suddenly a cry went out and Selanae knew they'd been seen. The Rohirrim readied themselves and charged their enemies on foot.

Selanae darted for the tower. As soon as she entered, she ran into three large orcs. She quickly dropped to dodge an attack and spun around with her elbows out. She slammed them into their guts and followed with a chop at their necks. She moved on, leaping over their bodies and climbing a staircase with no end in sight.

More orcs were ahead, no doubt running to join the battle she could hear from the Rohirrim. Selanae again defeated them, and climbed quickly. Her legs burned from exertion, but her resolve did not falter. Whatever place this was, it was evil, and she would not leave Eomer or any soul to suffer.

The staircase branched off to a level in the tower. She wasn't sure where to go now, but her body was already in rhythm to go up, so she continued. It was a minute or two later when she heard someone speak.

"The foolish Rohirrim," she heard. Selanae came to a dead stop and listened.

"They will die here and at Helm's Deep," someone said in a deep, hypnotic voice. "Do you want to watch, Eomer, son of Eomund?"

Selanae's breath caught in her throat. She heard nothing in reply. She moved closer to the room.

Ever so slowly, she peered around the corner. She was just in time to see an old but tall man swing his staff at Eomer. It didn't hit him, but Eomer was flung across the room. He yelled out as his body slammed against the hard floor.

Selanae drew her sword.

She ran into the room, a circular room with a balcony that yielded no light. The old man's back was to her, and she moved to run him through.

Another person in the room gasped, and Selanae realized she had two enemies. For now, she focused only on the wizard. He whirled around, his staff raised and his eyes dark.

And then he froze. His eyes widened and he just stood there, gaping at her. Selanae didn't hesitate to use that to her advantage. She leapt off one foot and twisted her body in the air. Her limbs lashed out, stiff when they connected with the man. He fell, and yelled out as Selanae's blade slashed at his arm.

The other man screamed and ran at Selanae. She turned to face him. His ugliness and gaunt features made him almost pitiable, but she had no time to ponder that. Selanae ducked his initial swing of a fist. She popped up on her feet and kicked him in the chest, once, twice and a final time as he hit the ground.

The wizard was getting up now, and Selanae had no desire to push her luck. She flung her sword at him. It whooshed in the air until the man saw it. Suddenly it diverted its course, leaving the man intact. But the diversion sent the blade into a pillar of sorts. The blade cut through some material draped over it, and suddenly a black blanket of fabric descended over the wizard. He shouted out some dark curse as he was temporarily covered.

Selanae turned back to Eomer. He lay on the ground, his eyes half open. She quickly went for the dagger in his boot, grateful she'd decided to return it and that no orc had removed it.

With a quick slash, she cut the bonds on his hands. When he didn't jump up immediately, Selanae yanked him by the arm. His body was half dragged as she headed back for the stairs.

He groaned and finally got to his feet when she paused to retrieve her sword.

"Hurry," she whispered as she pushed him past her. Her eyes were still on the wizard and his gangly minion. The wizard was getting back up, clawing at the fabric that draped over him.

Selanae turned back to the stairs and descended after the marshall. As they ran down the stairs (Eomer more stumbling down them), Selanae gave him the dagger. He held it tightly in his hand.

He stumbled and fell forward. Selanae quickly caught him by the arm and righted him. They stopped their pace for a moment.

"We have to run, Eomer," she said, glancing up the stairs. She expected Saruman to follow soon. His chest heaved and his eyes winced with pain, but even so, he nodded.

He placed a hand on the wall, sliding it against the surface to steady himself as they descended. Selanae's body was tense the whole time, and she could have sworn the stairs were just lengthening.

But suddenly a bit of light from the outside could be seen.

The neigh of a horse startled her, but to Eomer it was encouragement. The two ran out to the land. The Rohirrim held off the orcs, but it was getting desperate.

"Retreat!" she heard Eothain yell as he saw his lord. Eothain slaughtered an orc and then turned sharply to the one horse they'd brought for this: Eomer's horse. Eothain slapped the horse on the rear, and it darted ahead for Eomer.

He seemed to smile at the horse even as it charged towards him. Suddenly it stopped and Eomer reached for the saddle to pull himself up. His ginger movements told Selanae it could take awhile. A couple of orcs were coming towards them, with no other Rohirrim around. They were already retreating. Selanae groaned, but stepped forward. As the two orcs attacked, Selanae maneuvered her sword with quick speed, a quick jab at one and a long slash at the other. Both orcs gurgled their last curses.

"Selanae," she heard behind her. She turned, her sword out and ready for the next. But it was Eomer, atop his horse and slightly hunched over. Even so, he held out a hand to her. "Hurry."

She nodded and grabbed his hand. As soon as she was on the horse's back, Eomer urged the horse forward. They galloped away from Saruman's tower and from the orcs yelling after them.

It wasn't long before they caught up with the Rohirrim. They disappeared into the forest, with Eomer's horse quickly finding the lead. But the Third Marshall wasn't aware of this. His body slumped forward. Selanae steadied him as the horse ran ahead.

Eothain yelled a command and the horse stopped. Selanae almost fell off, and Eomer too. She quickly slid off the horse's back and eased Eomer to the ground.

He was unconscious, or if awake, barely so. Eothain knelt at his lord's side.

"Eomer!" He turned to Selanae. "What happened?"

Selanae shook her head. "I don't know. I think Saruman tortured him." She grimaced as she took in the blood on his shirt across his chest. "And the orcs had their fun."

Eomer suddenly mumbled something, but neither Eothain nor Selanae could decipher it.

"Eomer?"

The man slowly opened his eyes. They looked so tired, and even full of pain, but not just physical. Eomer swallowed dryly and opened his mouth.

"Helm's Deep."


	6. To the Helm

**a/n:** Again, thank you for the reviews, and I hope you continue to give me feedback. Enjoy!

**To** **the** **Helm**

The Rohirrim mounted their horses and charged towards their land's most durable fortress. Selanae found herself with them, even though she was ready to go on her way. But Eothain would not allow it.

Nor would Eomer. He managed to hide the pain on his face as they rode hard towards Helm's Deep, even after he'd rested a bit. But Selanae knew Saruman's power had hurt him.

She frowned at the thought of the old wizard. Why had he frozen so when he'd seen her? It was odd, wasn't it? He'd known someone was there, and was about to attack her. Selanae wasn't sure if she would have survived—the moves of men and orcs, she knew, but wizards were slightly out of her league.

Eomer kept glancing her way as the company raced across the land. She was well aware of it, but every time she looked back, he would turn his gaze to the way ahead. Eothain rode close to Eomer, and kept shooting her warning looks. He still did not trust her. Selanae almost sighed until she realized she didn't care. She didn't need their trust. She only needed to be able to move on.

_To what?_ She knew all too well that the road for her was as muddled as the plains after a battle in torrential rain. It had been that way for four years now.

"Rohirrim, halt!" Eothain yelled out. Selanae cast a glance in his direction. He was staring at Eomer, who was having a hard time hiding the pain now. Eothain dismounted quickly and went to his lord's side.

"Come, rest, Eomer," Eothain said gently, his arms out and waving the man down. Eomer shook his head.

"We have not time," he said weakly. "That host of orcs will be upon Helm's Deep too quickly." Even as he spoke, he kept one arm tucked against his chest. Selanae frowned.

"Then rest quickly, Eomer," she said despite the glare from Eothain. "If you do not have your strength, what good will it do your people?"

They managed to coax Eomer off the horse, and Eothain inspected the marshall's chest. They had already cleaned his wounds and bandaged his torso, but Selanae knew that didn't make the pain disappear. Being jostled about on a horse wouldn't help either.

"I have not thanked you," Eomer said suddenly to her. He couldn't seem to look her in the eye as he spoke, so Selanae studied the ground. She waited for him to say whatever else, but he seemed to struggle with the words. Eothain jumped in.

"Thanking her is too generous," he said, glaring at her. "If it were not for her, you never would have been captured."

Selanae rolled her eyes.

"If you hadn't kept me captive, I would never have held you hostage to escape."

Suddenly she could sense someone near, and she turned quickly.

"Hmmm. This sounds like a most interesting tale," an old man said. He was tall and bearded, wearing white robes and holding a staff. Selanae glared at him—he was a wizard.

Immediately she unsheathed her sword and swung it once over her head.

"Selanae!" she heard Eomer yell. The wizard held up a hand, and she expected some powerful force to hit her.

"Peace," he said with a grandfatherly grin. "I am no foe." She narrowed her eyes.

"The last wizard I encountered was."

The wizard's eyes widened. "You have seen Saruman?" He glanced to Eomer.

"We have not time, Gandalf," the Third Marshall said. He got to his feet slowly, but even so could not hide the aches that plagued him.

Gandalf nodded. "Time is precious. A large army of Uruk Hai march on Helm's Deep. We must hurry to help Rohan."

Eomer nodded back. "We have seen them and were headed there." This made Gandalf frown.

"You know? Tell me all that has happened," Gandalf said, "for the slightest thing could change our fates." He led Eomer away, leaving Eothain and Selanae to stare after them.

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"How have you seen Saruman? And the woman—she spoke of him too," Gandalf pressed quickly. He seemed a bit unnerved, which in turn made Eomer nervous.

Eomer took a deep breath. "She freed me from Saruman. I was captured last night by orcs."

Gandalf frowned and turned his eyes to the Rohirrim. "Did you lose many men?" Eomer shook his head.

"No, they were not there when I was captured," he said. Gandalf raised an eyebrow at the man. Eomer sighed. "To understand this, I should start at the beginning."

He began to tell of how he'd discovered Selanae, relaying her stubbornness and secretive manner. He reluctantly told of how she'd escaped, using him as leverage.

"But she rescued you from Saruman?" Gandalf asked as the details sank in. Eomer nodded. The wizard stroked his beard and looked in Selanae's direction. "You say she gives you no information about her or her home? And she managed to get you out of the tower, even in the presence of Saruman?"

Again, Eomer nodded. He frowned, not sure what it was that Gandalf was getting at.

"She must come with us," Gandalf said. He straightened his body and whistled for the great Shadowfax to come. He and Eomer walked back to the Rohirrim, drawing their looks and Selanae's as they approached. "Theoden needs us."

At the mention of his uncle, Eomer froze. Gandalf looked on this with skepticism.

"What is it, Eomer?"

Eomer sighed deeply. "I am banished by the King's hand," he said morosely. "But I will still return, even if it results in my death."

He saw Selanae look up sharply from her sword at his words.

Gandalf's face softened. He seemed to take pity on the marshall. "Your uncle is free from Grima, and Saruman. He will not kill you for saving his people."

Eomer did not say anything, but he looked confused. Gandalf chuckled.

"Yes, your uncle is fine now. And Eowyn too," the wizard added. With that, he clapped a hand on Eomer's back. The Third Marshall winced but tried to hide it. Gandalf frowned, and pulled something from the ground.

He offered it to Eomer. "Chew on this. It will take the pain away." Eomer knew better than to question Gandalf, and obeyed. The wizard turned to the men. "We ride on to Helm's Deep!"

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The first rays of dawn welcomed them to battle. As the Rohirrim came over a steep hill, she heard the roar of orcs, the clatter of weapons, armor and bone. The sounds rattled through her.

Her horse propelled forward, ready for battle like any good Rohirric creature. But she had other plans in mind. There was no way she would have any advantage if she remained on the horse to fight.

She brought her legs up on the horse and crouched on its back. The host of orcs wasn't far. As soon as the horse met resistance, she leapt forward with a gleam in her eye but no ferocious cry from her throat. Her body flew through the air and her sword in hand. She twisted her body around to land squarely on an orc.

It was crowded with so many orcs, but she wasn't alone in this fight. Selanae made herself room as she plowed over the enemy, slashing guts and beheading where she saw fit. She ducked blows, and lashed out kicks, one, two, three times in a row. Her arms swung out, using elbow and fist to disorient or beat the foul soldiers of darkness.

She stepped boldly forward towards a burly orc. His teeth bared and his stench offending, he was menacing to say the least. Selanae crouched ahead and leapt off one foot, turning her body and spreading out her arms. She came down in a twirl, with her sword slashing into the orc. A deafening howl sounded, and Selanae swung again.

A brief moment of silence was her reward. She smiled to herself and went for the next.

Her muscles ached, and the sun beat down on the orcs and soldiers alike. The enemy tired, and began to run away.

Suddenly though she saw one bold orc swing his crude sword. Whoever he fought jumped back, but the orc advanced enough to kick him right in the chest.

The soldier went down.

Selanae took three gliding steps over the dead bodies in her path and raised her sword. She dove towards the fallen soldier, and nearly landed on him as she blocked the blow coming from his opponent. The orc roared and tried again.

It was his last attempt. Selanae stayed on the ground, but went up on her knees. She turned on them and stabbed through the orc. Her chest heaved with exertion, but she uttered no empowering cry.

The orc fell as she retracted her sword from its gut.

Suddenly cries of victory sounded throughout the valley they fought in. Soldiers cheered as orcs fled and any stalwart ones remaining were killed. It wasn't just Eomer's men. It was all who were at Helm's Deep.

Selanae frowned and looked for another foe. But they were truly dwindling. She shrugged and turned to the fallen soldier.

He brushed himself off as he got to his feet. He glanced at her and blushed at seeing her.

Selanae grinned. It was Eothain.

"Thank you," he mumbled. Selanae almost rubbed it in. Part of her cried out to do so. But she opted not to push her luck. She casually nodded and turned away from him.

Even so, she couldn't wipe the smirk off her face.

Soldiers scoured the battlefield for any remaining threats, and Selanae joined them in doing so. She swiped at the dirt and orc blood on her face. It was disgusting. She longed for a bath, or maybe a swim in a river.

She spotted a water pouch and grinned. She took a long sip and then poured some over her head. The water that remained was sparse, but it felt good.

Suddenly someone darting across the field caught her attention. _Eomer_. He ran full-speed for the fortress, his sword still in hand and his body covered in the grime that plagued all of them. He seemed unburdened by the pain he was in before.

_What's his hurry?_

At the broken gate of the fortress stood a willowy woman, dressed simply but carrying a proud air about her. Her wavy blonde hair flowed in the wind. She smiled and ran towards Eomer.

Selanae raised an eyebrow. _His lady?_ _Hmm_. She hadn't thought of him as married or attached. In fact, it hadn't crossed her mind. Selanae shrugged. It didn't matter.

She turned back to scouring the fields, only to run into the man named Aragorn.

"Selanae," he greeted with a tired bow. She smiled and returned the gesture.

"You survived, I see," she said. He grinned, showing off a goofy smile that almost made her mock him.

"And you are no longer prisoner," he said back. She smiled and granted him a nod. "You fought well. Indeed strangely as Eomer said." The dark haired man cocked his head to the side. "Where did you learn such methods?"

Selanae opened her mouth to reply but no words came. She settled on shrugging as she tried again. "As much as I would love to discuss this, I much prefer a bath." She bowed to the man and turned for the fortress.

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"Who is she?" Eowyn asked, her eyes narrow. "And why was she allowed to fight and I not?"

Eomer sighed and rubbed the sides of his head. It throbbed again, though now more because of his exhaustion. He was glad he was atop his horse, on their way back to Meduseld.

"Eowyn," he said, warning her. She glared at him.

"Eomer."

He threw his hands in the air, which nearly startled his horse. "Fine," he relented. "We stumbled on her during our travels."

Eowyn shot him a look. "And for that she gets to fight?"

He groaned. Suddenly a new voice interrupted, and Eomer was most glad.

"She is strange," Aragorn said, coming to pace with the marshall and his sister as they rode. "I spoke with her about it, and she will not reveal anything." It was both more information for Eowyn's curiosity and a diversion for Eomer's sanity. He grinned at Isildur's heir.

"She won't reveal what?" Eowyn asked.

"How she came to learn such methods to fight," Aragorn said. "Have you seen it?" Eowyn shook her head. "Even in the middle of battle, I noticed it. It's like a dance, the likes of which I've not seen before."

Eomer frowned. That was saying something, especially since Aragorn had traveled extensively.

"It is not only her fighting abilities she keeps secret," Eomer said. "I've yet to learn anything about her life. I only found out her name when she told you, Aragorn."

The ranger grinned. "Well, yes, but you had her tied to a horse. I wouldn't tell you anything either."

"Tied to a horse!" Eowyn repeated skeptically. Eomer groaned.

"There is a reason for her silence," a new, deep voice said. It was Gandalf, riding atop Shadowfax. The wizard was still white and clean, even though he'd fought in the battle as well.

Aragorn, Eowyn and Eomer stared at him, then up ahead where Selanae rode by Eothain, Gimli and Legolas.


	7. The Mystery of the Woman

**a/n:** Again, thanks for the reviews! Keep them coming! I have several more chapters ready, but I'm spacing the posting on them so I can finish the whole story. I never leave a story uncompleted, so no worries there. If you have any doubts, look at my past stories and the dates on them. Enjoy!**  
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**The Mystery of the Woman**

She could feel the curiosity exuded from each of them. They all wondered about her, where she came from, how she learned to fight. What did it matter?

It was time to leave.

The group stopped for a rest. Moving with a whole bunch of women and children didn't help the pace. Selanae grew impatient, but was grateful for the stop. It would be a useful moment to disappear.

She dismounted and moved to the back of the group. She tried to remain unnoticed by Eomer, or Eothain. Or Aragorn. Or that wizard. If she succeeded, she'd be on her own again.

"Where do you plan to run?" she heard. Selanae sharply glanced to the voice, seeing Eomer watch her. He seemed half amused and half upset at her obvious intention.

She sighed.

"I don't know." She walked directly at him, and narrowly missed him as she passed by. The boldness almost made Eomer freeze.

Almost. He grabbed her by the elbow. She tensed immediately, but Eomer stared at her hard, directly into her eyes.

"Before you go, Gandalf wants to speak with you," he said.

She had half a mind to kick the Third Marshall, heir to the throne or not. But she followed him, merely because he'd said 'before you go.' At least he was accepting her intentions.

Eomer led her through the people and over to a semi-secluded area. Slight hills and rocks shielded them both, as well as Gandalf, Aragorn, and Theoden. She stood stiffly amidst them. Theoden looked frightened, or unsure. Then again, he just recently got back his sanity, from what she'd heard. Aragorn looked a little more subdued and thoughtful than usual, and Gandalf just smiled.

She found herself turning to Eomer to gauge what was going on. He offered a soft and humble smile.

Something was definitely wrong.

"What is it?" she asked, a little hostilely. Gandalf motioned for her to sit on a boulder. She just stared at him.

"Selanae," the wizard began. "Do you remember anything about your home or family?"

A gasp escaped her throat before she could contain it. Fear took over her, and she stood, staring at him with wide eyes.

"So you have no memory," Gandalf said with a nod to himself. "How long ago did this happen?"

Selanae almost choked on her tongue as she swallowed and tried to compose herself. She glanced to Eomer, to Aragorn, and to Theoden, but they all just seemed unaffected by Gandalf's words.

_They already know._

_That_ frightened her.

"How" She coughed, and tried again. "Did you guess this?"

Gandalf chuckled, though none of his companions joined him. "No, child." She hated it when people called her that—she was far from a child, though not anywhere near Gandalf's age. "I will tell what I know, if you will tell me what you remember." Again, he motioned for the boulder.

Selanae still stood. Behind her, Eomer sighed at her stubbornness, and took the spot Gandalf designated for her. And then silence came over them all. Gandalf motioned for her to speak.

Even so, she hesitated. She had not told _anyone_ about what happened. Friends and family were not something she had, or knew. It was too bizarre and dangerous. Danger too was always a concern, though she knew not why. As she stared at each man in front of her, she wondered if danger was still present here.

She found herself drawing a deep breath.

"Four years ago," she said, and almost choked again. "I awoke in a river, far from here. I'm not sure what land it was." She drew another breath and tried to not shake as she continued. "I was injured, an arrow in my side. I still do not know why, or by whose hand it happened."

"What did you do?" Aragorn asked, softly. There was a measure of empathy in the way he spoke.

Selanae raised an eyebrow at him.

"Do?" she repeated. "I spent two years searching for answers. Who I was, where I came from, and why I was left for dead in a river."

"And what did you find?" Theoden asked, putting in his two cents. His jaw was set firmly, but his eyes betrayed his trust on the matter.

"Nothing." Her voice hollowed without emotion. "So I taught myself defense and learned the ways of the people around me, and moved on."

The four men looked to each other, digesting the information.

"What do you know?" Selanae asked, staring at Gandalf.

He held up a hand. "Before I begin, I have another question. How did you pass by Saruman, in his tower?"

Selanae frowned. Images of the evil wizard came to mind, as he used his powers on Eomer, and as he froze in front of her.

"I attacked him," she said. "He left himself vulnerable." Gandalf and Aragorn shared a look, and then the wizard leaned forward, his eyes very focused and intent.

"How?" he pressed. "He is a wizard—very powerful, and yet he was vulnerable?" He didn't doubt her, she realized, but it still made her cautious. She spoke slowly, playing the images in her mind.

"He did try to defend himself," she started. She could see him, whirling around with his staff raised. And then that look in his eyes . . . "But he . . . stopped. He just stared." She shrugged. "I took advantage of it."

"So he would not attack you?" Aragorn asked. Selanae shook her head.

"No, he tried to later," she said. "But it was as if I really surprised him, even though he knew someone was in the room."

Gandalf leaned back as if he finally understood. "Eomer, did you see all this?" The Third Marshall lowered his head, shaking it. Gandalf frowned, and Eomer stammered to word what had happened.

"I . . . I couldn't—I was . . ."

Selanae cut in.

"He was not well enough, not with what Saruman did to him," she said. Eomer's eyes flashed for a moment until he realized she was trying to help. He gave her the slightest nod.

"It sounds like Saruman recognized you," Gandalf said, "and you were the last person he expected to see."

Selanae stared at him. "Enough of this. What do you know?"

"I know without a doubt now that you are the prophesied warrior who will help us through these times," Gandalf said. His words seemed to shout at her, to echo across the land. "I know not why you have no memory, or where you came from, but I know the enemy fears you. This is probably why they tried to kill you."

"Saruman thought you were already dead," Aragorn deduced aloud. Selanae swallowed dryly. None of this made sense to her. She felt her legs weaken, and knew she would fall if she did not sit. Her legs wobbled as she moved and sat by Eomer.

She felt their eyes on her.

"It is a lot to take in, child," Gandalf said.

Selanae glared at him sharply. "I am not a child, nor have I been for as long as I can remember. Do not treat me so."

"That reminds me," Gandalf said. He seemed unaffected by her anger. "How old are you?"

"A quarter of a century," she said. Again, Aragorn and Gandalf exchanged looks. Gandalf nodded, a smile spreading over his face.

"What?" She hated not knowing what was going on, though given her lack of a past, she should be used to it.

"The prophecy tells of a young warrior who comes of age in her skills when she is 25. Her strength lies in her convictions. Her manner of battle will thwart all in the end, and even Sauron's power cannot stop her." Gandalf stared at her with a smile in his eyes. It was almost peaceful, though for Selanae this news was tumultuous.

Millions of questions came to mind, theories, new worries and doubt. She settled on voicing one.

"Who's Sauron?"

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Her question might have baffled the men more than their little prophecy did her. But Aragorn pulled her aside and filled her in. They must have assumed she knew. In truth, she knew nothing of the land or politics or worries—not even for all of Middle Earth.

She _had_ heard of Sauron, just whispers in dark places of the lands she'd traveled across, but she knew no real information. Even Saruman was new to her, though it seems like he wasn't much of a concern to her.

The prophecy made it seem like she was invincible to whatever these dark powers were. She didn't like that. None of this new knowledge made her feel better. She felt . . . burdened. And suddenly she was unsure of her fighting skills. _That _hadn't happened since she began training herself.

Amidst the plodding along of Rohan's people, the faster trotting of a horse sounded behind her. Selanae didn't turn around to see as the new horse came along side hers, but from the corner of her eye, she could tell who it was.

Eomer said nothing for a few moments, and Selanae didn't feel like saying much to break the ice. The Third Marshall, though, caved in quickly.

"You have been quiet," he said. "You've scarcely said a word since you spoke with Aragorn."

She almost smirked. "I've always been quiet. That has not changed."

Eomer nodded. He looked ahead at the lines of people, and off over the land. Selanae snuck a glance at him. He was truly proud of his land. _Good thing, since he's heir and all._

"Is Selanae your real name?" he asked suddenly. Selanae raised an eyebrow at him, and he blushed. "You don't remember. Sorry."

She couldn't help but smile at his embarrassment.

"Then you chose it?" he ventured again. She granted him a nod. "What does it mean?"

"I don't know," she said with a shrug. "I just liked the sound of it."

"Where did you hear it?"

Again she shrugged. "I didn't. I just made it up."

Eomer chuckled. Selanae didn't think it was funny, but she smiled shyly anyway.

"There is something I came to ask you," Eomer said after his laughter subsided. "Some of us head to Isengard, to Saruman's tower." His face darkened. "The rest go to on to their homes. It is not safe for you to go to Saruman, not with what we have learned."

She didn't like people telling her where she was safe and not, but she let that pass for the moment. "Then I'll be on my way."

"No!" Eomer said a little quickly. He took a deep breath. "I'd like you to return to Edoras with my sister and the rest of the guard."

"Why should I?" she challenged. Eomer sighed, frustrated.

"Do you really mean to leave now? After all you've heard and with the world at war?"

Selanae's eyes narrowed. "This is not my war."

Suddenly Eomer dug his heels into the sides of his horse and yanked the reins to steer the horse in front of her. His eyes were alight with fury.

"How can you say that!" he hissed at her. "This is every bit your war. What you do affects us all. And what the enemy wants is to have you and every other living thing dead or enslaved!"

He glanced to the sides, realizing the people were staring at them.

"If you leave and disappear now, you seal our fates," he said lowly. His words hit her like a blunt sword, but she refused to show it. Instead she steeled her eyes and clenched her fists around the reins of her horse.

"A few hours ago, neither of us knew anything about any prophecy, nor did we take stock in any such thing to change the future. Why should that be different now?" she asked him.

Eomer's eyes looked away for a moment before finding her again. Even so, he couldn't look at her long.

"Because it is you," he said quietly. "I have seen you fight, seen your strengths and none of your weaknesses, save your temper. I don't doubt Gandalf's words because I believe in you."

Her eyes widened at that, and she found herself speechless. Why would this strong soldier of Rohan, who knew no strength other than what his arm could deal, give heed to anything about her? Was the future so grim and unsure as to need her as much as Gandalf and the rest suggested?

Eomer pulled on the reigns and moved his horse out of her way. "I will not force you," he said. "But I hope you will help us."

With that, the horse trotted away, and Selanae was left atop her steed with a heavy decision.


	8. Proud Fights

**a/n:** I hope you enjoy this! It was a long chapter, so I broke it up. The next one will follow rather quickly. Please review!

**Proud Fights**

Edoras was simple but beautiful. It seemed warm, especially as everyone's mood was cheerful and victorious. The people settled back into their homes, which thankfully were left untouched in their absence.

Eowyn busied herself with preparing a feast for the Rohirrim. Selanae had no idea what she did all day, but she kept busy, expecting the men to be back soon.

Selanae couldn't have been more bored. She was not used to this life, this everyday normality of living in a city, in an actual home. Too long she had wandered, though she really didn't know or remember any other way of life.

The Golden Hall wasn't really golden. She wondered why it was called so. It was lit up with torches and smelled of fresh cooked meats. Part of it was disheartening to Selanae.

It was too peaceful. It'd been a few days since she'd killed an orc, and she grew restless. Not that she lived to slaughter them, but she was used to fighting and living with constant danger. Aside from the soldiers, such a life was foreign to the people of Rohan.

She sighed as she stared from the steps of the Golden Hall. She sat on them, halfway up to the Hall and halfway down to the main street. Her hands found her sword. She pulled it out and inspected the blade.

That only took a few minutes to do, and she was left back again with boredom.

"Enough of this." Selanae stood and walked down the stairs, her eyes set on the open and free land before her.

She made it to the gates when Eowyn hurried to cut her off.

"Where are you going?" she asked, breathless.

Selanae rolled her eyes. "Where does it look like I'm going?"

"You cannot leave," Eomer's sister said, trying to be authoritative.

"I can. It is my choice," Selanae shot back. She pushed by Eowyn a little roughly, and suddenly found a swarm of soldiers around her.

"Do not insult the shieldmaiden of Rohan!" one shouted. Eowyn held up a hand to stay the guards. She turned to Selanae.

"I will not let you make so poor a choice," she said. She turned to one of the soldiers, and removed his sword. "You will have to leave my dead body in your wake if you choose to leave."

_She's as annoying as her brother_, Selanae thought. She smirked at the woman, and at all the guards.

"You would waste your life," she said, and pushed by again. This time she was met with several swords, crisscrossed in front of her by the soldiers. They glared at her from under their horse-head helmets. And something inside Selanae snapped.

She bit hard on her lip as she suddenly whipped out her sword and brought it up like a gust of wind through the swords blocking her. The swords separated, and the men scattered around her like she was a dangerous animal. Eowyn opened her mouth but before anything could be said, Selanae attacked.

She leapt up on one foot and kicked out sideways. The kick landed on one man's chest, and he grunted as he went down. Selanae crouched down and flipped backwards, twisting her sword around to use the hilt as a weapon.

She flung out her arm and hit the dragon head hilt against another soldier. He became dazed enough to fall down completely. She twisted her body to the left, dodging a swing at her head. Eowyn yelled out something, but Selanae did not pay attention.

Her actions became automatic, and her mind drifted to what Gandalf said. Things would never be the same. If she stayed, she was bound to try and defend. If she left, Gandalf's words (and Eomer's) would haunt her. She knew too much all of a sudden, and she wasn't used to any knowledge of herself beyond what she made of her life in the last four years.

Something hit her arm, making her lose grip of her sword. Selanae frowned but simply leapt back and crouched down. Her arms were spread out stiffly, ready to attack again even without a weapon.

There was no one else really to defeat. Except Eowyn. Her blue eyes were dark with anger as she looked over the soldiers. They weren't dead—Selanae wasn't about to go that far—but evidently no longer obstacles. Eowyn was the only one left in her way.

Selanae didn't know if she wanted to go down this road. She was, after all, Eomer's sister. But as Eowyn yelled out and swung her sword over head, Selanae discarded any reservations.

Eowyn slashed ferociously at the air as Selanae dodged from side to side. She leaned back as the sword would come within inches, but never close enough to make Selanae's heart drop. Eowyn continued to attack, suddenly thrusting the sword to impale her.

It amused Selanae how angry this woman was. She was _definitely_ Eomer's sister. _Must be a family trait_, she thought. Selanae spun on one heel and stuck out a leg right behind Eowyn's ankle. The Shieldmaiden fell unceremoniously on her backside. She got up on her feet and was as furious as ever all too quickly.

Again she advanced, and Selanae stepped to the side and twirled her body with her leg extended and out. Eowyn barely ducked in time to miss being flattened again to the ground. She yelled out again, and gripped the sword tightly with both hands.

Selanae eyed the sword. She watched but stood still as Eowyn charged her. At the last moment, Selanae reached out and grabbed Eowyn by the wrists. She spun around and twisted hard at the woman's hands. The sword was released. Selanae continued her momentum and flung Eowyn away, then quickly caught the sword with one hand before it hit the ground.

Eowyn's chest heaved and she stared wide-eyed at Selanae. Selanae took the sword in her right hand and swiveled once before hurling it at Eowyn.

Eowyn gasped, even as it sunk into a water trough by her. The sword swayed back and forth but stuck in the wood. The Shieldmaiden glared from the sword and back to Selanae.

And suddenly, the cool metal tip of a sword touched her throat.

Selanae glanced out of the corner of her eye to see Eomer, very red-faced and fuming.

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Aragorn tried to calm down his friend, but Eomer brushed him off. He stormed ahead, following after the fresh soldiers who cautiously escorted Selanae inside the Golden Hall.

"She did not hurt anyone, Eomer," Aragorn said. "And consider that she could probably best you if you intend to attack her."

Eomer glanced sharply at the Ranger. "You saw it, Aragorn. She would have killed my sister."

Aragorn rolled his eyes, something Eomer had never seen the soft-spoken man do. "She had no such intention. If she meant to kill anyone, your soldiers would all be dead! And you know Eowyn has a temper, like all children of Eomund."

It was meant to lighten the mood, but Eomer suddenly turned on his friend and grabbed him by the shirt. He yelled out and pushed him against a pillar outside the hall.

"Just whose side are you on!"

Aragorn stared at him, surprised but not upset by Eomer's actions. "We're all on the same side, Eomer. Remember that." Eomer sighed and released his friend.

"I am sorry," he mumbled. He ran his hand over his hair, and then down his face. How he wanted to return to Edoras under different circumstances. Last time his uncle was still under a spell, and he left banished. Now he returned to find the hope of Middle Earth attacking his beloved sister.

"She has had a difficult time," Aragorn said a bit quietly. "She has gone from knowing nothing to knowing more than she wanted to. The burden she carries and the evils she will face are not easy things." He let that sink in. "And remember you did start this off aggressively, keeping her captive."

Eomer shot a look at him, but the Ranger just smiled. Eomer sighed and rolled his eyes this time. He drew a deep breath, and continued inside the Golden Hall. He passed the feast that was being prepared and set out, and went further to the royal chambers of the house. He stopped in the library, where all waited.

Eowyn was there, glaring at Selanae. Eomer suspected part of it was hurt pride, a sentiment he was well aware of when it came to interaction with Selanae. He shot a look to his sister.

"What happened?" he asked a bit gruffly. Eowyn raised her chin at her brother, though her eyes flickered to Aragorn, who joined them. Gandalf, it seemed, was not going to get in the middle of this one.

"She meant to leave," Eowyn said simply but confidently. "I could not allow her to do so, not when she has such responsibility." At the mention of that word, Selanae stiffened.

"And yet you tried to kill her?" Eomer asked. Eowyn opened her mouth to protest, but Eomer held up a hand. "I saw enough, Eowyn. She had no weapon, and you tried to run her through."

"After she incapacitated all the soldiers!" Eowyn cried out. Eomer flickered a glance to Selanae. She seemed undisturbed by any of this. She just stood still in the middle of the library, with a dozen soldiers around her.

Eomer waved at the soldiers. "You may go." The soldiers cast wary glances at Selanae, but bowed and left.

"What is this about a fight at the city gates!" someone yelled. Eomer whirled around to see his uncle. Immediately, Eomer bowed, as did Eowyn and Aragorn. Selanae didn't move a muscle.

Theoden glared at her and pointed a finger in her direction. "You will not wreak havoc on my city, or my kin!" He whirled around to face Eomer. "Throw her in the dungeons, now!"

Selanae's calm façade broke at that, but she didn't say a word. Eomer tried to explain.

"Uncle, she did not mean—"

"Why do you make excuses!" Eowyn shouted. "Your king gave you an order!" Eomer rolled his eyes and let out a frustrated yell of his own.

"Would you all please calm down! The last time any rash decision was made here, I was banished on pains of death." He regretted saying that, especially since they all knew Theoden wasn't himself when he signed the order. It was a low hit, and one that made the king glare at his heir.

Theoden took slow, purposeful steps towards Eomer, his eyes glaring into him.

"I want her in the dungeons for the night, sister-son," he said. "And as long as I am king, you will obey my orders."

Eomer sighed and closed his eyes. Reluctantly, he bowed.

"Theoden King," Aragorn called. "May we speak privately?" He was completely calm and polite, a quality which rather annoyed Eomer. _How can he do that when we all just screamed and argued?_

He glanced at Selanae, who was still and ready to bolt. He'd seen that stance before. He was about to motion for her to follow him when Eowyn rushed by him and called for the guards.

"Eowyn!" he hissed at her. But the guards came quickly, and Eomer found himself under his uncle's scrutinizing gaze. The guards surrounded Selanae with drawn swords. Eomer sighed again. "Take her to the dungeon." The command was soft, but the men didn't hesitate to act. None of them trusted this wild woman. Eomer felt her eyes on him, but didn't dare look at her.

Aragorn and Theoden watched her leave, and then glanced at Eomer. He bowed and left.

He came upon Gandalf as he moved through the hall. Already, he could hear merriment as the feast geared up to begin. Gandalf wore a large smile as cheers from the hall echoed throughout.

"Eomer!" he greeted. The Third Marshall scowled.

"Gandalf," he said, taking the wizard by the arm and leading him back the way he'd come. "I need your help."

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Dungeons. She'd never been in one, that she could remember. It wasn't what she imagined.

It was dark, and wet. The stone walls were slick with cool, moist air. She found herself sitting on the floor and staring at the dirt and hay. It was odd that they had hay on the floor. It reminded her of a stable.

_Surely they wouldn't treat their prisoners as well as their horses._ She smirked to herself at that.

Above her, she could hear singing and music. Drunken laughter echoed its way to her ears. _Nice to know they're comfortable_. Especially when she helped save them from destruction by ten thousand orcs.

_I'm not bitter._

She laughed to the emptiness around her. No one else seemed to occupy the king's hatred, but Selanae was actually glad. She stood and stretched her body, and paced the small cell.

Several hours passed, with no change in her condition. Selanae ended up on the floor, resting. Part of her wanted to sleep, but she'd been so lazy and useless the last few days that she couldn't bring herself to close her eyes. So she began to think about her plight.

Reflecting on the situation, it might not have been the best move to fight one of the royal house of Rohan. Eowyn wasn't next in line to the throne, but evidently she had enough clout to get her down here. That, and Theoden didn't trust Selanae or even like her. She'd noticed that when Gandalf told her about the "prophecy."

Selanae sighed. She'd been trying to avoid that topic. _Too late._

_So I'm supposed to defeat evil, or whatever was said._ Saruman feared her. So did Sauron. Why, she still didn't know. She found herself somewhat fearful of them, mainly because they were part of this new burden on her.

When she'd stormed into the tower to rescue Eomer, she hadn't found any doubt in her. She'd had no knowledge to make her doubt.

_How can knowledge make me doubt?_

She sighed to herself in the cell.

_So what will I do?_

_Run._ She shook her head. That was so instinctual for her, but it wasn't the right decision. _Which means I stay, and do what I can._

Somewhere inside her, doom and uncertainty panged through her body. She closed her eyes, and let out a long breath.


	9. Courtesy

**Courtesy**

Eomer crossed his arms over his chest to keep from fidgeting. The drunken merriment continued around him, even though it grew later and later. Legolas the elf was slowly drinking another ale, his 20th at least. Gimli grinned oafishly at his friend.

Eomer tried not to let his impatience show, but finally Legolas exclaimed: "I feel something!"

_About time!_

"A slight tingling in my fingers. It's affecting me," he said in a low tone, almost alarmed.

Gimli slobbered over it. "Wha'd I tell ya! He can't hold his drink!" And with that, the fool passed out, with ale spilling down his beard.

_Finally!_ Eomer backed away from the friends. He searched the room, finding Theoden smiling at Eowyn. Eomer couldn't help but feel some bitterness. His eyes settled on a dark corner of the hall, and went there.

He watched everything but saw nothing. Inside, his mind was racing. How could his uncle be so unjust? Eomer couldn't pretend that it did not bother him. Soldier or not, Eomer was hurt by his uncle's actions. Theoden was a like a father to him—he had few memories of his real father. But Theoden was king first to him lately.

Why wasn't it so with Eowyn? He loved his sister, but she could get away with murder. Theoden always favored her.

He was fine with that, he told himself. He was older, beyond the need for attention and coddling. Eowyn would have taken insult to that thought, but Eomer found it reassuring. He wasa soldier! He was the Third Marshall of Rohan, and the heir to the throne. Eomer swallowed hard.

_That_ he hadn't wanted, but yet it was upon him. He pushed it aside for now. He would not be king for some time, and would enjoy every moment he could without that burden.

The images in front of him made it back to his mind, and Eomer saw Aragorn and Gandalf talking across the way. They seemed disturbed, worried, but when were they not? There were many things to worry about, although releasing Selanae from the dungeon was not one of them. Gandalf and Aragorn spoke with Theoden, and evidently agreed that Selanae should stay in the dungeon for the night. The agreed excuse was that they feared she would try to leave again.

_And holding her captive encourages her to stay._ Eomer huffed at the thought.

He would not leave her down there.

Eomer turned from the busy hall and disappeared down a passageway. He weaved back and forth through the many hallways until he came to a set of stone stairs. His footsteps echoed softly, and soon he heard movement respond.

Selanae lay on the dungeon floor. Her head turned towards him, and even in the darkness of the dungeon, he could see her eyes.

He froze like some hunted animal. What would he say? He knew his uncle's orders, so what could he really do?  
"It's okay," he heard her say. "I'm not angry anymore." Eomer felt himself relax a bit. He stood in front of her cell, leaning forward and grasping the bars with his hands. A thousand thoughts and words crossed his mind, but he couldn't find what to say.

"I'm sorry." It was weak, but that's all that really worked. "I imagine you've been through enough without being thrown in here."

She smiled. "Yes. It's been an interesting week."

Awkward silence came over them, and Eomer found himself staring at the keyhole on the gate. He shuddered suddenly. It was much cooler down here. Glancing at Selanae, he saw she had leggings and a tunic on, nothing heavier to shield her.

He frowned.

Suddenly he reached into his boot, removing his dagger. He held it up for her to see.

"Ah, the family heirloom," she said. Eomer smiled briefly, but shook his head.

"Maybe," he said. "Eowyn gave it to me when I became Third Marshall." The blade was long and thin, but still it was an effective weapon. It wasn't cumbersome, despite its length, and the thinness of the blade actually made it more useful than simple combat.

Eomer knelt down and eyed the keyhole of the cell. With the dagger, he pried at the lock. From the corner of his eye, he saw Selanae grin, and then laugh as the lock sprung open.

He grinned and stood, holding the cell door open for her.

"It's too cold for anyone to sleep down here," he said, though both knew she would have been fine, albeit a bit uncomfortable. "It's best if you aren't seen. Stay behind me."

He turned and headed back to the noisy feast, with Selanae following him. But instead of turning to go back to the main hall, Eomer led her to his room. He opened the door for her, glancing around to see that no one discovered she was free. She slipped past him, and then stopped.

"These are your quarters?" she asked as he shut the door. He nodded.

"I do not stay here often, but yes." He was happy to see a fire already burning in the hearth, and pointed to it. "Keep yourself warm."

Selanae gave him a short nod and sat by the hearth. Eomer busied himself with throwing on another log. He did so, and surveyed his room. For some reason, he wished he'd put away some of his things, cleaned up a bit.

He shook the thought from his head, and faced Selanae. The firelight danced over her face, and it reminded him of how she fought so gracefully. He sat on the ground, to the side of her, and stared into the fire.

Neither spoke for some time, though Eomer wished she would break the silence. He found himself settling on curiosity.

"How did you teach yourself to fight?" he asked. He almost cringed after he'd said it, but Selanae didn't seem offended or to mind.

She shrugged. "I'm not sure. I knew of weapons, but seeing men fight was so odd, I didn't know if I could do it," she said. "I didn't dare ask anyone. So I started to experiment."

Eomer tilted his head to the side, silently urging her on. She glanced to his eyes and took a breath.

"I started by buying my sword, which was probably premature, but I did it anyway. In the morning, I would swing it from side to side, over my head, anything to accustom me to the weight. At night, I would seek shelter, and sometimes in villages I'd hear music. The melodies stayed with me, giving me a rhythm to move to." She shrugged again. "I eventually got better, enough to defend myself."

She looked to him, and flashed him a nervous smile. Eomer nodded.

"It is beautiful, and impressive," he said. "Never before have I seen anything like it."

"Yes, I remember," she said, a gleam in her eyes. "You thought I must be witch because of it."

Heat flushed Eomer's face. He looked at the floor, hoping to hide his embarrassment.

"Yes, well . . ."

She laughed. "Enough. I am only teasing." Suddenly she yawned. Eomer got to his feet, clearing his throat and struggling not to fiddle with his hands.

"You must be tired," he said. "The bed is yours." She raised an eyebrow at him, and Eomer hurried on. "I must get back to the hall before I am missed. If you don't mind, try not to escape for once."

She smiled, but nodded.

"Thank you, Eomer."

For some reason, chills came over him when she said his name. He bowed quickly to her out of courtesy, and left the room.

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He stumbled back to his room, delirious with the lack of sleep and excitement of the night. Even the past days, the battle, his capture . . . he still had bruises, but nothing that really hindered him. All he wanted now though was to sleep.

Eomer couldn't help but feel tense though as he entered his room. Part of him feared Selanae would be gone. Or if not, that they would be awkward about sharing his room.

He didn't know what he'd gotten himself into that situation. _Why not give her a blanket or something instead?_ It didn't matter.

She wasn't in his bed, though the blankets were slightly tossed. Eomer frowned, and started to search the room. He almost stepped on her though. She lay by the bed's side, on the floor, with the thinnest blanket over her.

Eomer found himself smiling at the sight. Why she hadn't taken the bed, he didn't know, but he doubted manners dictated it. She was hardly proper, and wouldn't have been so self-sacrificing. Eomer reached over her and pulled at a pelt on his bed. It was by far the warmest. He draped it slowly over Selanae's sleeping form, half expecting her to wake and put a sword to his throat. But she didn't. Instead, she seemed to snuggle to the warmth.

He climbed over her and onto his bed, still casting glances at her. His eyes nervously didn't leave her until he quickly pulled off his tunic and shirt and carefully dropped his sword at his bedside. He grabbed a blanket and rolled himself in it barely before he relaxed and gave in to sleep.

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a/n: Okay, got that out nowI really didn't like the last chapter too much. Hopefully this one will erase any bad memories. I've got some great stuff ahead, so please review to encourage me!  



	10. Difficult Decisions

**Difficult Decisions**

Shouts made Selanae bolt up in her makeshift bed. She instantly reached for her sword, though it was not there. The guards had taken it yesterday.

Suddenly someone moved on the bed next to her spot on the floor. Selanae almost jumped, even more so when she saw Eomer had no shirt on.

Whoever was shouting was coming closer to the room.

"Stay down!" Eomer hissed at her. She lay back down just as the door busted open.

"Eomer!" Selanae rolled her eyes—it was Theoden. "See to it that the girl is freed. I would like to speak with her, as do Gandalf and Aragorn."

"Yes, uncle," he said, his voice a little shaky but deep enough to hide it. The door was slammed shut again, and Eomer sighed. "Sorry," he said in her direction. She nodded, and slowly got up.

Eomer followed suit, reaching for his shirt. Selanae chose to look at the door, though she listened for his movements.

"Why did you not use the bed?" he asked. Selanae shrugged.

"Too many nights in the woods, I guess," she said. "I'm not used to beds." He suddenly came into view, circling around to face her. She noticed he'd just redressed in what he wore the night before. The browns and greens suited him nicely. It was nice not to see armor all the time.

"I best get you to my uncle."

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Theoden had a confident air about him as Selanae entered the room. Beside him, Aragorn and Gandalf stood, their faces almost neutral but for the hope in their eyes.

Selanae found it funny. The door closed behind, with Eomer standing by it.

"Selanae," Theoden began, his eyes flickering to his nephew. Gandalf suddenly stepped forward, waving a hand at the king. Theoden seemed to be okay with this, and the wizard spoke.

"The enemy is closer than you know. Now is the time to decide what you will do," he said. "Last night, he saw into the mind of a foolish hobbit."

_Just jump right to the matter_, Selanae thought.

"Saruman did what?" she asked.

Gandalaf shook his head. "Saruman is dead. But Sauron knows of you, Selanae," he said, his voice grave. "He knows you are alive, among other things. And it seems his plan has changed because of this."

Selanae raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing. Aragorn took over.

"We need you now more than ever. If Sauron accelerates his attack now, I fear we will not be able to protect the lands of men," the Ranger said. "Will you help us?"

All men and wizards in the room seemed to hold their breaths. Selanae didn't say anything for several moments, a measure of fun being drawn from their suspense. Finally she gave them relief.

"I will."

Theoden broke out into a proud grin. "Time in that dungeon gave her the perspective she needed." Selanae gaped at him, until her smart tongue came to.

"I'm certain there was a time that you were a great king, but I just can't see it," she said. Aragorn just about gasped, as did Eomer behind her. Theoden's face turned so red.

Gandalf jumped in quickly.

"There is much to discuss," he said, leading Selanae by the elbow and out of the room. Selanae was just pleased at her small victory.

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"We don't have enough time!" Gimli exclaimed. He, Legolas, Aragorn, Gandalf, the King, and Eomer stewed over strategy. Selanae could sense the urgency, but the men seemed to come up with nothing, although several things were thrown out as options. She heard strange terms, like 'paths of the dead.' She shrugged it off.

"Sauron is reforming his armies. They will march to Gondor faster than we can arrive," Aragorn said.

"Why should we help Gondor?" Theoden said. Somehow the comment didn't faze Selanae, not when it came from the man.

"We cannot stand by and watch them die," Aragorn said. The talk continued, on and on and round and round. It was endless, and pointless.

They spoke of strategy, yet for all the battle-hardened men in the room, no good solution presented itself. Sauron was coming, and quickly. How to stop it?

"A diversion," she said aloud, more to herself but it drew everyone's attention. The talk stopped as all eyes turned to her.

"What, Selanae?" Gandalf prompted. She smiled coyly.

"It seems we need to stall Sauron with a diversion. Keep him occupied so he does not march on Gondor right away, or at least not with full force." She shrugged. "It's just a thought."

"What type of diversion?" Eomer piped up for the first time. He tended to be quiet, especially when his uncle was around. Selanae turned to him.

"What would get his interest enough to turn away from Gondor?" she asked back. "While you round up an army to aid Gondor, Aragorn goes to the Paths of the Dead. Meanwhile, Gondor is still under attack. But if, say, a feared enemy challenged him . . ."

The stares that came back at her spoke volumes.

"You would take on Sauron?" Aragorn asked. Selanae shrugged. "Do not trifle with life and death, for he can easily destroy." His eyes held fear and darkness, so much that Selanae offered him a smile to lighten his despair.

"I am merely suggesting I make myself more visible to him. Perhaps, even allow his armies close enough . . ."

"He would kill you!" Eomer jumped up and started pacing.

"He would try," Selanae corrected him. Gandalf shot her a look.

"He will try to capture you—"

"Even better," she said.

"—and if you do not bend to his will, he will kill you," the wizard finished. Silence consumed the room, but Selanae tried to remain unconcerned. In truth she was—she still didn't want part of this, but she wasn't the only one at stake anymore. _What a burden_, she thought.

"Do you have a better idea?"

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Eomer, an eored, and Selanae left at once to gather soldiers for war. It was decided that such was the best way to "make Selanae visible" to the enemy. Gandalf and one of the hobbits left to warn Gondor, and Selanae had no idea what Aragorn and the King were doing in the meantime.

The worst part of the plan was that Selanae was again riding horses. She scowled at the beast that carried her, and he must have sensed it. His pace became choppier, flopping her around a bit violently.

She pulled at the reins suddenly, stopping the horse even as all the others rode past her.

"Look," she said, a little annoyed. "I don't like this either, but at least don't make it harder for me." The horse turned his head back to look at her, and then snorted. "Thank you." With that, she gave it a light kick, and the horse caught up with the eored.

"What was that about?" Eomer asked, appearing at her side. Selanae glanced at her horse.

"Just understanding each other, that's all."

Eomer chuckled. He seemed to be in a better mood. This was the first time in a while he spoke to her lightly or without deathly concern. _He worries too much._

Even now, his smile disappeared, hidden under his helmet of the horse, with the white mane flying behind him in the wind. He was in full armor again, as were all the soldiers. Eomer had tried to convince her to wear armor, at least chainmail, but she refused. It was one of his less charming moments.

_Why is he so worried?_ As far as she could tell, this prophecy just about meant she was indestructible, so why change how she fought or what she wore?

They'd come across two villages the first day, gathering men and sending them on to the camp where Theoden would be waiting in a day or two. The second day was spent the same way, and Selanae was fast becoming bored.

The third day, though, they stumbled across some orcs. It was just a small group, a scouting party no doubt. The eored started to chase them.

"Eomer!" she yelled out. The Third Marshall came to her side.

"What?"

Her eyes flashed with excitement. "Let me go after them. Alone."

Eomer rolled his eyes and started to ride away.

"Eomer!" She spurred her horse after his. "This is the perfect opportunity! Let them see only me. When they see who I am, word will get to Sauron." _Why am I even asking?_

With that thought, she went ahead, after the orcs. She heard Eomer yell something to her, but didn't stop. The orcs ran before her. She was amidst the other soldiers, but she urged her horse forward. The horse for once didn't seem to fight her. He leapt ahead.

The orcs scattered over the hills, and ran for an area just out of sight below a hill. Selanae eagerly went after them. She gained on them quickly, until she leapt off her horse and tackled an orc.

It howled, and those around him roared. Selanae rolled to her feet, and drew her sword. She spun and lashed out with her sword, beheading the nearest orc.

From there, things were unclear. But she danced around the orcs, engaging them two or three at a time. She twisted and leapt, swung her sword over head and ran it through the foul bodies of the orcs. She stopped herself when there were only five left. They ran quickly, scared of her.

"Should we follow, my lord?" someone asked behind her. Selanae turned to see the entire eored behind her, merely in a line, watching her fight. Eomer glared at her as if he were disappointed.

"No. Let them go."

Selanae nodded. _They'll report back, and soon Sauron will be too distracted to focus on all things._

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Eomer paced the camp for lack of anything more constructive to do. His mind raced, but he tried to ignore. Then he saw Selanae, calmly sitting by herself, not even close to the fire. She was cleaning her sword.

And Eomer found his blood boiling. _How can she be so calm? So uncaring? So reckless!_ It reminded him of Eowyn, but worse!

It didn't help that she was growing on him. Eomer knew it. Selanae was so simple, but yet so quiet, mysterious, and beautiful. It was her demeanor, shy but fierce, that enraptured him. And he hated it!

How he wanted to go up to her and hide her away where she'd be safe. Prophecy or not, no sane person should go out _looking_ for Sauron. _Least of all a woman! Barely more than a girl!_

She put aside her sword, though it was barely out of her hand with how she positioned herself to sleep. Eomer found himself watching her, and yet thinking about how peaceful and yet strange she looked sleeping on the floor in his bedroom back at Edoras.

"Is the Third Marshall planning to sleep?" came a teasing voice. Eomer glanced over his shoulder at Eothain.

"How do you fare tonight, Eothain?" he asked. He was well aware that he hadn't answered the question, especially not when he saw Eothain's gaze flicker between him and Selanae.

"Well, my lord." The two stood in the night, watching the fire and Selanae. "She was quite impressive on the field today, sir."

Eomer nodded, but said nothing.

"I could watch her fight all day," the second-in-command said. Eomer almost gasped and he turned sharply to glare at him, but Eothain was smiling, teasing him.

Eomer rolled his eyes and walked away from his friend before anything else could be given away.

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Wind rushed by the eored, sending their hair and banners flying behind them. Eomer relished it. It was exciting and yet peaceful. The land before him was calm and golden.

Suddenly a frightful and ear-piercing shriek sounded above, echoed by roars ahead of them. Eomer almost fell off his horse as he covered his ears. Looking ahead, he saw a host of orcs, standing boldly and ready to face the Rohirrim. At the same time, a large dark shadow came over them all.

A winged beast, almost a dragon, shrieked again, and doom sounded within Eomer's heart.

_Nazgul!_

Eomer drew his sword for the orcs ahead, and shouted out to his men.

"Attack! Archers to the fell beast!"

Arrows rained upward at the beast, and those that missed fell back over the host of orcs. The Rohirrim charged ahead, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Selanae at the head of them all.

She didn't hesitate to dismount her horse, and launch into battle against the orcs. Eomer shook his head, but turned his attention to the fight around him.

He plowed through the orcs, swinging his sword with strength and honor. He cut into several, releasing a roar of his own as he killed one after the other.

Suddenly the fell beast shrieked again, making the soldiers cower at the sound. Eomer barely warded off a blow and ducked to the side as another orc tried to take him down. But that didn't worry Eomer. The Nazgul suddenly swooped down towards the ground on the beast, lower and lower. And just ahead was Selanae.

"No!" Eomer yelled, but it was too late. She turned just in time to see the claws of the fell beast come at her. She pivoted back and to the side, but still the claws grabbed at her.

Eomer charged after the beast, knocking down orcs in his path with no more effort than his shoulders. His eyes stayed on Selanae, up in the air and in the clutches of Sauron's servants. Even so captured, she struggled and slashed at the beast with her sword, which somehow she'd not dropped. The beast flew higher in the air, and let out another shriek.

For some reason, this one sounded like taunting.

Eomer charged over another orc, then suddenly stopped and grasped his sword somewhat loosely. His eyes honed in on the beast, and with all his might, Eomer hurled the sword at the Nazgul and the creature.

The blade flew up, end over end, higher and higher, but he feared not high enough. But the tip hit into the beast wing, drawing another shriek even as the sword came loose and fell. This one, though, was of pain. The creature released Selanae, and Eomer's breath stopped as her body fell to the earth.

He didn't know how far she'd fallen, or even how she survived, but she seemed to just manage to land on her feet almost with a spring. The impact appeared to be nothing, and she rolled over the ground with the momentum.

Eomer ran to her side, even as the winged beast and the Nazgul both yelled out their unearthly screams. The beast and rider were circling back towards them.

"Selanae!" Eomer yelled, kneeling by her. He glanced again at the enemy. "Hurry, we must get you to safety." She seemed a bit stunned, but she was awake and started to rise.

"No," she said, and suddenly she was on her feet and testing her sword and arm with a swing. "Eomer, it's after me."

Eomer almost rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Yes, I know!" He picked up his sword, which lay near them.

"No," she said forcefully. Suddenly an orc charged them both. Selanae twirled around, as versatile as ever, and stabbed the orc through the chest. She yanked out the blade and turned back to Eomer. "You and your men must gather the army for Gondor."

Eomer shook his head. Suddenly he saw two orcs behind Selanae. He brushed by her, and wielded his sword high. His blade crushed through one orc's shoulder, and Eomer spun around to catch the second orc at the neck.

He turned back to Selanae, surprised to see her impressed. _Has she never seen a man fight?_ He brushed it off for now.

"We'll still gather the army, after we finish this," he said, nodding at the orcs.

"We cannot win, not with that thing!" She pointed in the sky, where the fell beast flew somewhat injured, but swooped on the Rohirrim. Eomer winced as two of his soldiers were run down by the beast.

Suddenly Selanae grabbed him by the shoulders, giving him a shake.

"They are after _me_, Eomer! I will draw them away," she said. Eomer started to protest, but she clapped her hand over his mouth. "It is the only way, for what we both must do." Her eyes stared deep into his. Eomer felt his heart be gripped by fear, fear for her. Her brown eyes became too much to bear. Eomer looked away and nodded.

"I will meet you in Gondor's lands," she said. And then she ran, off towards a riderless horse. She mounted with decent skill and rode off.

Eomer turned back to the battle, his heart and mind heavy with worry.

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a/n: please review! thanks! 


	11. Alone

**Alone**

Selanae rode off towards the nearest forest. There was safety in the trees with a Nazgul and beast after her. She'd lost some stray orcs trailing her awhile ago, but the Nazgul repeatedly dove after her.

That loud shriek sounded again, and Selanae grimaced.

"Faster," she whispered, willing the horse forward. Amazingly, she felt its movement speed up. The forest was not far now.

Suddenly the winged beast came at her from the side. Selanae gasped, and ducked close to her horse. The beast barreled into the horse, sending it and rider tumbling over the plains.

Her heart raced. The beast was preparing for another swoop. Selanae got to her feet, and glanced at the horse. It lay on its side, stunned, maybe dead.

"Thank you," she said in its direction, and then she ran for the forest. The sound of massive wings flapping in the wind followed her. Selanae ran to the left, then back to the right. The beast barely missed pouncing on her. The Nazgul atop the beast glared at her with a dark hole for a face.

Selanae glared back with a taunting grin, and ran to the forest.

The trees provided cover for her, but she no longer heard the squeal of the enemy. She no longer heard anything but her own movement. It spooked her.

Even though she was tiring, she started to run lightly, her eyes darting back and forth and her sword ready in her hand.

She ran the rest of the day and walked through the night. Her legs were beyond feeling, but something urged her on. Will power, though, could only get her so far.

She stumbled and fell to the ground, amongst dead leaves and twigs. She didn't even want to rise, but for the fear of discovery. _Fear!_ That was unusual. Selanae pulled herself up, and climbed the nearest tree. She positioned herself in its branches and clutched her sword to her chest before she succumbed to exhaustion.

Morning rays peaked through the tree and into her eyes. Selanae squinted into the sunlight. It was warm, but she felt cold.

A clink of metal below her startled the quiet. Selanae tensed, but did not move quickly. She carefully moved to look below her.

Standing beneath her tree was a Nazgul. His jagged armor and serrated sword was dull in appearance, but Selanae knew each piece was intended for harm. The Nazgul didn't look up, but searched around him.

_He knows I'm close._ Selanae froze in her spot.

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Eomer, his riders and recruits rode to the camp where Theoden and the rest of the army waited. He found both the King and Eowyn waiting for him as he dismounted. His uncle was dressed in his robes and armor, though battle wasn't here yet. Eowyn, on the other hand, wore a simple dress, and it made Eomer think of Selanae, though he'd never seen her in a dress yet.

For some reason, he hoped to see her here, now, dress or trousers alike.

_She wouldn't know to come here_.

"You have gathered many, Eomer," Theoden said by way of greeting. Eomer nodded.

"Not as much as I'd hoped," he admitted.

"Where is the woman?" Eowyn asked. Eomer noticed the hint of lingering anger, but it seemed like Eowyn was trying to forget the past.

He shook his head.

"We split up. The Nazgul came after us," he said, and then gestured to the men behind him. "We would have more men if we weren't attacked. As it is, we have several injured from the fell beast."

From behind Eowyn, Aragorn came running, his elfish cloak waving behind him. He reached the Rohirrim out of breath. Before he spoke, his eyes darted from side to side of Eomer.

"Selanae?"

Eomer shook his head. "She heads for Gondor, but where she is exactly, I do not know."

Aragorn pursed his lips together and tried to nod off his worry. He seemed to straighten his shoulders back. "We will see her in Gondor then."

Eomer couldn't agree right away. He just didn't know. But he nodded anyway before excusing himself.

He busied himself with his horse, making sure his men were okay, and inspecting his armor. He cleaned and polished his sword, and pretended to think about battle strategy. Night fell as he saw to the camp and then sat by a fire. The flames danced before his eyes, and the warmth baked smoke into his skin.

Behind him, he heard his sister and the hobbit laughing. He scowled. She'd been pestering him about going to battle, but there was no way he would risk that. Nor would Theoden. For Eomer, it was a definite no—he'd already risked one woman he loved, and wouldn't risk another.

Eomer felt his muscles tighten, and he almost gasped as he realized what he'd thought. _Love!_

His face flushed at the thought. She _was_ beautiful, but love? Eomer groaned. This wasn't what he needed now. He should be focusing on saving Gondor and keeping his men safe but ready to defeat Sauron.

_Selanae_. Eomer sighed into the night. Her name alone made his heart ache. He could see her, in his mind, her face like stone with determination as she faced the Nazgul. She ran off to divert them, to save the Rohirrim from slaughter. And she succeeded in that.

_But will she succeed long enough to make it to Gondor?_ He tried to imagine it, meeting her again in the White City. Perhaps they could actually spend time together, without fighting orcs. _After the war, of course._

Eomer frowned. The odds were hardly in their favor, and here he was, assuming victory when doom was ever present. _Stop dreaming!_ He glared at the fire, his jaw hard and his face like stone.

Even so, a thought crept into his mind.

How he hoped Selanae was safe.

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She abandoned the trees—she had to. The forest, it seemed, had reached its end. Selanae wasn't thrilled about crossing open plains, although the hills and boulders provided some cover. So did nightfall. With little place to hide if needed, Selanae decided to only move at night now.

Gondor had to be close.

A horse's squeal resonated across the land. Selanae froze, but her eyes searched the direction from which the noise came. In the clouded moonlight, a shadowed figure looked over the plains. The horse reared up, releasing a restless neigh.

As if in response, that haunting shriek sounded.

Selanae crouched to the earth, her eyes fixed on the Nazgul. How was she tracked? The malicious being seemed to sense her, even after losing him a day ago.

_I must hurry_.

Keeping low to the ground, Selanae moved over the land quietly but quickly. She prayed her movement wouldn't be noticed.

The cool night air attacked her as she ran. She fought the shivers that came over her, that made breathing harder than necessary. Her pace was constant, but her legs grew weary, as did the rest of her body. She hadn't rested since yesterday, unless slowing to a walking pace for an hour or two was considered resting. Her stomach rumbled too. She hadn't had time for food either.

She had to eat, soon. Her eyes searched for vegetation, but only grass and leaves presented themselves. Meat would be great, except to cook it, she'd have to have fire. The Nazgul would see that.

Selanae stumbled more and more as the night wore on. Her eyelids were heavy, and the sword sheathed and held on her belt weighed down her pace even more. Her foot hit a rock, and she fell to the earth.

Prudence demanded she get to her feet, but the flesh won out. She closed her eyes. _Just a moment's rest . . ._

She jerked awake later, as just a hint of dawn appeared. Panic washed over her. Selanae got to her knees, her hand on the hilt of her sword. Frantically, she searched the area around her.

No one, or no thing, was there.

Her stomach grumbled again. Selanae sighed, until she spotted wild bushes not far from her. She quickly got to her feet and ran to the shrubs. They sported plump berries, something Selanae quickly devoured. Her fingers grabbed for them, plucked them from the shrubs, and she gulped down handfuls.

She stuffed herself, and she knew it, but how it satisfied her! Selanae leaned against a boulder, sighing contently. The road to Gondor wouldn't be nearly as unbearable now.

A shadow, darker than the rest of the early morning, crossed over her, above her. Selanae tensed and glanced above her. A winged beast flew overhead, and on its back was a Nazgul, glaring down at her with no eyes but a dark hole for a face.

Selanae was on her feet and running before the first shriek rang in her ears.

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a/n: Please review! 


	12. Pelennor

**Pelennor**

Eomer's horse pranced a bit, ready for battle. Both horse and rider only waited for the command.

Theoden shouted out. "For Ruin!" Rounds of shouts echoed the king, and the men of Rohan wielded swords and spears as they charged at the black mass of orcs.

Eomer's heart raced, his veins throbbing as blood pulsed through him. His eyes were fixed on the orcs, his arm tight and ready to hew them down. His horse leapt forward, faster, leading the Rohirrim. Together, horse and rider jumped and plowed through the orcs.

His sword slashed left and right, killing orcs as Eomer made his way through the crowd. Everywhere he looked, he saw more to kill. He let out a ferocious yell and stabbed through an orc's head.

The Rohirrim fought fiercely, and from the White City Eomer heard joining yells. The Gondorians were hopeful, no doubt, now that Rohan had come to their aid. Eomer turned his horse and ducked at the same time, lashing out with his sword. The blade met a Corsair, on foot.

Thundering footsteps made Eomer finally look ahead. Before him were several oliphants, with more Corsairs atop them. They yelled and shot arrows down upon the Rohirrim. Eomer glared at them, particularly at one man who directed an Oliphant. He grabbed a nearby spear.

The spear flew through the air and plunged into the man. The Corsair fell, and in his fall he confused and hurt the Oliphant, bringing the beast and its masters down with him.

Eomer smirked at the scene, and went for the next enemy.

Suddenly he froze as he heard something every man feared.

Shadows crossed over the land as deafening shrieks echoed overhead. Eomer looked up to see the Nazgul circling overhead. It wasn't just one—there were at least four.

They swooped down on the men, plowing over them and the horses. Eomer watched, horrified, as his men were killed.

And for a brief moment, his mind wondered if Selanae was still alive.

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The sounds of battle were oddly comforting to her. After running nearly non-stop since the Nazgul reappeared, Selanae had finally found others on her side.

She almost laughed. She had no side not long ago. Selanae shook her head and ran to the crest of a hill. Below her, thousands of men and orcs battled, with strange beasts thrown into the mix as well. Not all men were the Rohirrim, and she realized quickly that not all men sided with Rohan and Gondor.

The winged beasts flew above the fighting men. _No wonder the Nazgul abandoned me_. The greater threat, Rohan, arrived. She was late for the battle.

Selanae charged on foot to the battle, her sword in hand and her shoulders flexing in anticipation. She quickly found herself in the foray.

_Cling, clang, swoosh. Cling, clang, swoosh!_ Her dragon-head sword sounded rhythmically, and Selanae began to smile. She dodged an obvious blow by an orc, twisted on her heel, and swung her sword above her head. She froze it there, almost smiling at the orc as she invited the fight.

He died quickly, and so did the next ten orcs. Selanae moved her feet quickly, bending backwards and forwards as she twisted and flipped her body defensively. She attacked with as much grace and speed, confusing the enemy.

Her eyes grew wide as she looked ahead. _Eomer!_ The tall, blonde marshall yelled out as he dealt a fatal blow to an orc. He twirled his sword in the air as he turned to the dwindling numbers of orcs, and felled another even before the first orc fell to the ground.

She smiled, and ran towards him. A strange man with paint and pierced flesh came at her, but Selanae barely took thought as she parried and stabbed him.

"Nice to see the marshall made it," she said loudly. He whirled around, his sword ready, but his eyes widened when he saw her.

And suddenly, he let the sword drop to his side and he embraced her tightly.

"It took you long enough to arrive as well," he said, his voice teasing. Selanae laughed into his armor. His hold was tight on her, and for some reason, it struck her as more than just relief.

"Miss me?" she asked with a sly grin as he released her. His face was flush, but she assumed it was the effort of battle.

"I'm glad you're alive," he said, smiling at her.

Shouts of terror startled them both. Their swords were up, ready for whatever was next, when they saw a green ethereal wave wash over the Corsairs and orcs. The enemy screamed as the wave slaughtered them.

"This is new," Selanae said.

Eomer nodded. "Theoden said Aragorn would gather the dead to fight for us." Selanae raised an eyebrow. She supposed that was a real answer, but somehow she found it a bit too far-fetched.

"The dead?"

Eomer caught her tone. "It's another prophecy, or so I've heard." He looked again as the remaining threat was banished.

"See?" Selanae said. "And who said I would defeat Sauron? I'm not the only prophecy around her." She grinned. "And I haven't even done anything yet!"

Eomer rolled his eyes, but she saw laughter there. He opened his mouth, but suddenly another shriek made them both cower.

_Nazgul!_ Selanae hadn't been bothered by them during the battle, but now they seemed infuriated. She looked up in time to see two dive for her. Selanae pushed Eomer away and dove out of reach. She felt breath from the beasts as they passed by her. The shadows passed, and Selanae pushed herself to her feet.

_Where's my sword?_ Frantically, she looked around for it.

"Selanae!" It was Eomer, and she looked to see him toss her sword towards her. She caught it by the hilt as another shadow crossed over her.

The beast's wing hit her as it flew by, and Selanae grunted when she hit the ground. She rolled onto her back, ready to get up again when suddenly the second beast dove at her. Its claws scraped at her, but she twisted from being captured.

"Selanae! Behind you!" She turned as Eomer ran towards her. His eyes moved from her to the next threat.

The first beast had circled back and shrieked as it descended on them both. It drew closer, and closer . . .

Eomer crashed into her, and they both fell back, rolling over the ground as the first beast barely missed. Again, Selanae's sword flew from her grasp. Both she and Eomer were out of breath. Eomer's eyes searched her face, close.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice deep but slightly shaken. Selanae nodded, her eyes finding something captivating in his.

Suddenly aware of how close they were, she got to her feet.

And just then the second fell beast snatched her, its claws tight around her body. She yelled out, but for whom to help, she didn't know. The claws trapped her arms down and dug into her flesh. The ground below grew further and further away, yet she could see Eomer, shouting at archers around him. Arrows flew up, but none could catch the beast.

Above her, the Nazgul hissed. _Where is he taking me?_

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Eomer chopped at a fallen orc, releasing his anger on the disgusting dead body. He unleashed an almost primal yell into the air and flung his helmet to the side.

"Eomer!"

He let out a long, tired sigh, knowing it was Aragorn. He drew a deep breath before turning to the future king.

"They've taken her."

Aragorn bowed his head, studying the ground as he took in the news. He looked up at the marshall.

"She will be all right, Eomer. Do not lose hope." Aragorn laid a comforting hand on the marshall's shoulder. "Where is Theoden?"

Eomer froze. He hadn't seen his uncle since the charge. He held his breath as he passed Aragorn and started searching.

Eothain wasn't far away and he trotted up to Eomer.

"My lord," he said, slightly out of breath. It struck Eomer as oddly formal given the moment. That's when he noticed Eothain's expression. His eyes were downcast, and his friend bowed slightly to him. He frowned as well, but not angry so much as saddened.

_No. It cannot be._

Eomer swallowed. "Where is the king?"

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a/n: I hope you liked this. I really enjoyed making this follow the movies but with a hidden, important, and reluctant character like Selanae. By the way, I pronounce her name like this: Sell (like I'm selling something) -ah-Nae (like 'neigh' of a horse). I don't know the correct way for indicating pronunciation, so I hope that helps. 


	13. The New Kings

**a/n:** First off, I just wanted to thank you all for the reviews! They really help me to get into the story more, and to polish it more and spice it up. I hope you enjoy this next chapter. Please continue to review!

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**The** **New** **Kings**

Eomer walked the fields of Pelennor, his eyes scanning bodies for life. So many were dead. His uncle was among them, though his body was taken inside Minas Tirith for preparation for a proper burial. Eomer bit down on his tongue, hoping it would jar him from this nightmare.

Instead, the stench of spilt blood reminded him of the truth. There was a lump stuck in his throat, threatening to choke him or make him wail. But no tears came. He swallowed back that lump and resumed his search for the living among the dead.

His men did the same. In fact, all the surviving soldiers searched if they could. A goodly amount was in the House of Healing, inside the city walls. How he wished Theoden were there, rather than being readied for burial.

He hit something with his foot accidentally. Eomer looked down to see a severed arm. Red blood stained the grass around it. He shut his eyes for a moment. When he reopened them, he saw his men. Fallen. Dead. Their lives were sacrificed for all of Middle Earth. Some of their eyes were open, looking up, terrified. Others were shut, as if sleeping but for the obvious wounds. And some, even with their eyes wide open, looked content.

_It is the honorable way to die. Better battle than frailty. _That thought gave him comfort as he pictured Theoden. His uncle was no doubt happy. Demise on battle was glorious, especially compared to rotting away from Grima and Saruman's poisonous words.

Eomer sighed and continued the walk through the field. His sword was drawn, just in case they came across any live threats, but he held it loosely. The enemy was defeated, for now.

His eyes moved back and forth, surveying the bodies. Many of them had golden hair. One's hair was particularly fine, wavy, much like his sister's.

It was an odd thought. He frowned, and took a step closer.

His heart dropped, and his breath ceased for a moment. Eomer stared at the body, his eyes focusing on the hair and then the face.

_It can't be._

_ It can't be._

"No," he whispered.

That lump in his throat grew. He dropped his helmet and his sword, and ran towards her.

He screamed, loud and long, and dropped to his knees by her. His sister.

Eowyn.

She was limp in his arms as he held her to him. The armor she wore was cool despite the warm sun beating down on them. Eomer's last hope, his last kin, friend, everything close to him, was gone.

He cried, his tears raining down on his sister. His scream had echoed over the fields and now his sobs did the same. But he did not care. Nothing mattered anymore, not when all dear to him were lost.

Eothain laid a hand on his shoulder, and he remembered Aragorn was nearby. Somehow, they managed to separate Eomer from his sister, though he didn't remember when or how.

His grief was full, though in its height he failed to notice one thing: Eowyn was not dead.

He still did not believe it fully, but Aragorn now tended to her. Eomer watched, his heart aching. His eyes were still wet, and his body filthy from battle. Despite the healers' efforts, he would not leave Eowyn's side. She was not out of danger.

Suddenly Aragorn stopped his efforts, and smiled at Eowyn. He turned to Eomer, letting him see that smile. Eomer gasped, and he felt his eyes flood again.

"She will be well," the Ranger said. He stood and clapped a hand on Eomer's back. Eomer could only nod, his body and mind numb. Aragorn left them.

He stared at her, his last kin.

_She's alive, Eomer._

_ She lives._

And suddenly, he broke down. He buried his head in his hands, and just let his tears come.

_Theoden_.

_Eowyn_.

_Selanae_.

His sister now lived. He hoped the same fortune was granted upon Selanae. Eomer finally sat back, leaning against a stone wall, and fell asleep by his sister's side.

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Aragorn seemed troubled, but who wasn't these days? Eomer himself still was not over his . . . experiences. Death, near death, and the unknown clawed at his strength and peace of mind.

Gandalf, Aragorn, and several others gathered in the hall of the Steward, though Denethor killed himself. Faramir, the new steward, was too ill to assume any duties so soon. And according to Gandalf, it was not entirely necessary anyway—the King had returned.

Eomer studied Aragorn as they concluded the next step in the war against Sauron. The Ranger seemed weary, even though he stood tall and confidently. Was he really so confident? He seemed to take more charge now, and Eomer wondered if that unsettled him.

It certainly unsettled Eomer when all looked at him as the decision maker for Rohan. He was king now, though unofficially until his coronation. He shuddered at the title.

Aragorn approached him, his eyes almost frowning.

"What troubles you, Eomer?" he asked. Eomer almost shook his head to deny anything that bothered him. He was used to not coming to the forefront. He coughed and looked to the floor.

"We discussed much," Eomer said with a nod to the hall and the people therein. "But we have not decided about Selanae." For a brief moment, he feared he'd come across challenging. He was so unsure of how to act now. He kept his eyes on the floor.

"Eomer," Aragorn said, and then waited. The heir of Rohan looked to the future king. Aragorn's face was sympathetic, his mouth turned just slightly in a smile. "I know how you feel. But there is no reason to fear."

He wondered what Aragorn was speaking of, Selanae's situation or being king.

"What do you suggest?" he asked. Eomer shuffled his feet, but stopped himself from fidgeting more. He drew a quick breath.

"I do not want to think about what she will face," he said, even as images of orcs and darkness and evil shadowed his mind. "But we must find her, quickly."

Aragorn tilted his head to one side. "You do not think she can handle herself?"

Eomer sighed. "I know she can. And I know you think she may be where she is supposed to be," he said. "But I cannot leave her there, alone and without some help."

Aragorn nodded slowly, and Eomer continued.

"As soon as we arrive, I will infiltrate Mordor, and find her."

Any traces of a smile or sympathy disappeared from Aragorn's face. "Eomer, it would be suicide to go alone."

"It is suicide for her as it is," Eomer quickly defended. "I will not leave her to face fate alone. Please, Aragorn." He drew a deep breath. "This is my decision."

Aragorn held sadness in his eyes, such the like Eomer had seen only in death. Perhaps his intent was folly, but Eomer was resolved. Finally Aragorn nodded.

"Be careful," he warned. "Eowyn will not want to recover only to find her dear brother slaughtered."

Eomer almost froze. 'Slaughtered' drew up many memories for him, for his father. He nodded quickly, and walked away to prepare his men for battle.


	14. The Clutches of the Past

**The Clutches of the Past**

She awoke in a gray and shadowed room. It was large and open, though still stifling. She shuddered. The air was cool, but so thick that she couldn't decide if the cold was more uncomfortable or not.

Black jagged stones and rocks seemed to make up the structure she was in. A large, black throne was in the center of the room, but it was empty. In fact, there weren't any other furnishings.

And yet, it was familiar. Maybe that was too strong of a word, but she had the oddest sense that she'd seen this place before.

Suddenly a voice echoed in the room, something deep and large, but yet she saw no one. The words made no sense to her, but her body shuddered from the feel it gave her.

She tried not to jump. Her muscles tightened and she remained still, but her eyes darted back and forth. From one corner of the room came a freakish figure, tall, dressed in black and sharp armor. His head was massive in size—maybe because of the large helmet that seemed to encompass and even embellish on it. His mouth was uncovered, and as he came forward, he grinned.

Selanae blinked, hard. His face was all mouth. _Does he even have eyes?_ All she saw was a large mouth, black lips yet a pale complexion, with red cuts that stretched wide as he grinned darkly at her.

"My master bids me welcome you," he said. _What is it?_ She didn't know if she could consider the thing human, or what. Her eyes focused on those teeth—crooked, slimy, almost bloody, and jagged.

Selanae realized she might want to answer, but decided on silence. She stared at him, not with wide eyes, but almost bored.

"Do you know who I am?" the mouth asked. His helmet seemed to stare at her. She did not move, but stared off just over the thing's shoulder. Her expression was neutral, uncaring, hard. She was a wall to this.

She hoped.

The mouth almost turned to look over his shoulder, but he stopped. Those teeth flashed at her.

"You think you can ignore me?" He took two slow, purposeful steps to her, his teeth never hidden. "You are in Sauron's tower. The Great Eye wishes to know what you know, and you will answer to me, the Mouth of Sauron."

She cracked a grin at the name. _Mouth of Sauron?_

_ Fitting._

"I answer to no one," Selanae said evenly. "I haven't and I won't start now."

The mouth tilted his monstrous helmet to the side. "Yes you have, and you will." Selanae raised an eyebrow. "Tell me what you know about the Ring of Power."

His voice suddenly seemed loud and it echoed off the dark stone walls. Selanae narrowed her eyes at him, and then suddenly refocused on the wall behind him. She said nothing.

"There is no sense in refusing," the Mouth continued. "You did not refuse me before." Selanae looked at him sharply, and the Mouth smiled. "Ah, you do not remember. Sauron the Great knew as much."

That helmet and mouth seemed to stare at her, and Selanae froze, transfixed by the words he spoke. Her veins became icy, and the air around her gripped her lungs and held her hostage.

"You were always obstinate," he said. "That is why Sauron valued you so much. He can value you still." The Mouth started to circle her, his head never turning from her. "You were his prized _killer_. No one could slay like you did. None could stop you. Your darkness threatened all."

As he spoke, images flashed in Selanae's mind. She tried not to see, but they came at her like rushing water. Her body flinched and she blinked rapidly, trying to rid the images.

She saw herself—dressed in black, a skin of some sort. Metal studded the material, whatever it was, and sharp spikes penetrated the gloves and boots she wore. Her hair was darker, though stiff and imposing in style. Her face was pale, a stark contrast to the rest of her image, and yet even more accentuated by hollow eyes and dark lips. It made Selanae shudder.

"You remember now," the Mouth continued. "A queen you could have been. A queen you still can be." He stopped pacing around her, and reached out to touch her shoulder. His metallic grip weighed heavily on her. "He will let you come back."

_Come back?_ The horror she felt was strong and real, but instinct told her there was more.

"Come back?" she voiced. She glared at him. "So I left. Is that why you tried to kill me?" She could see herself, stumbling in a river's waters. The water was cold, but it washed away her darkness. It was warmer than her heart or the blood running through her veins.

And suddenly, she could see them. Orcs, goblins, foul servants, especially one horrific and disfigured man. _The Mouth_, she knew immediately in memory.

"Did you know that you failed to kill me?" she asked, taunting. The Mouth snarled silently, but did not say a word. He resumed his hunter's pace around her. "Did Sauron punish you for your incompetence?"

The Mouth snarled again, this time with a sickening wet growl.

"You should thank me," he hissed, seizing her with a harsh grip around her throat. Selanae glared at him but held still. "You have a chance now. Join me. By my side, we'll serve Sauron."

Selanae's eyes did not leave his mouth, those gnarled and bloody teeth. She felt his grip tighten around her throat, but not to threaten her life. His mouth was open, but he held his breath. She smiled, cruelly. He almost seemed pleased.

"Never."

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Eomer jerked suddenly as he rode along with his men and allies. Something startled him from his revelry. His imagination ran wild.

He hoped it was just imagination.

He kept seeing her. Her screams made his blood stop and his heart drop to his stomach.

_But they aren't real. It's just in your head._

He hoped it was just that.

How he fretted for her. She was in the enemy's grasp. Who knows what she faced? Who knows how she was being treated . . .

Eomer's fist tightened hard around the reins, and his teeth bit hard into his lips.

"What ails you, Eomer?" he heard to his side. Eomer quickly whipped his eyes towards the voice, only to see Aragorn. The Gondorian king gave him a friendly, concerned smile.

"I . . ." Eomer sighed and cast his gaze to the gloomy sky. "This is torture, Aragorn." His friend raised an eyebrow. "This pace. This _slow_ and _steady_ march, when my heart and will begs me to hurry." A faint wind stirred, easing the heat of the noon hour and blowing wisps of Eomer's hair to his face.

"You worry still," Aragorn said. The Rohan heir nodded.

"We are two days still from Mordor," he said. "I cannot deny that fear grips my heart, not for the final outcome or the fate of my people or even my dear sister." He drew a deep breath, and with it Aragorn's rapt attention. "But for _her_."

Aragorn nodded slowly, taking in Eomer's words and meaning. He waited for the younger man to continue.

"I'll instruct my men to follow you to what ever end, Aragorn," he said. "I'll ride ahead at once, to the Black Gate and beyond."

Aragorn tipped his chin up, almost as if he'd argue, but he said nothing for several moments. Eomer's heart almost stopped, even though he did not need permission to do what he sought.

"The way inside will not be easy. How do you plan to be undetected?" Aragorn asked.

Eomer frowned, but did not answer. He gave a short nod to his friend and patted him once on the shoulder. And with a forceful jerk of the reins, he moved out of the slow and steady march of the army fighting for Middle Earth. He spurred ahead on his horse, fast and towards the fire and shadow he could not wait to reach.

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There was insurmountable pressure in her mind. Her head throbbed, both from the blows the Mouth of Sauron dealt her, and from the constant bombardment of thoughts and temptation in her mind. She wanted to fight, to escape, but something told her it would be folly for her to do so—not just for her, but for the destiny she was bound to.

But even now, the Mouth of Sauron did not relent.

"Your skills have grown. The Nazgul cannot compete with you," he hissed in her ear. It was a compliment, but his tone ate away at her soul. "How they tried but even they are in awe of your darkness."

Again the image of her former self flashed to mind. She remembered meeting the Nazgul, each one of the nine poisoned kings. She remembered them, watching her . . . almost in fear.

"You are Queen above them." He was right next to her, whispering foully in her ear. "Take your place, and Sauron will forgive the past."

_The past . . ._ He meant leaving Sauron. She still didn't know how that came about or why. Nor did she know how she ever came in league with the Dark Lord. _But they still want me._

The Mouth stood to full height, leaving her cowering on the ground. He snapped his fingers, and two beings came for her, lifting her to her feet and leading her away. She could feel the death in their grip on her. Her eyes wouldn't focus much, but she knew what they were. Two of the Nazgul themselves, serving so closely to the Mouth. The Mouth had grown in position.

_And he wants you to serve by him._

_ Directly to Sauron._

Her head ached harder, almost like a splitting pain. The dark world around her turned darker still as the Nazgul led her somewhere within the tower.

They dropped her in a small room. She only knew it was small at first by the lack of echo. The Nazgul left her, the sounds of their sharp armor clinking away. She did not move at first. Selanae's whole body was sore, her mind, her heart, everything—it was hard to breathe still.

But slowly she opened her eyes.

Before her hung attire she recognized well. It was the black skins and armor she used to wear. The metal studs were polished and new-looking. The claws on the gloves and spikes on her boots shined at her. She crawled forward, touching the edge of a spike. It cut her, and blood sprang quickly from the small wound.

She sucked on her finger, the blood washing away in her mouth. Her eyes studied the armor, and drifted to the side, where a sword and set of daggers hung on a stand.

Those made her get to her feet. The set of blades were wavy, serrated and guaranteed to kill. She could almost feel the fleshy resistance when she had used them, the tearing pull and the sound as she yanked the blade from her victims.

She froze, staring at the blades, the armor, everything that was her.

Selanae reached for the black material.

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a/n: I hope you enjoyed the really quick update! I realized the previous chapter was short, so I wanted to get to this quickly. Please review—you all will love the next chapters. 


	15. The Darkness Within

**a/n:** Two words: Prepare yourself. And one more word: Review! ;o)

**The Darkness Within**

The Black Gate. It was larger than he imagined, even in this darkness of early morning. Helm's Deep was a mere scout post compared to this. He could see no guards, but that didn't mean they weren't there. Eomer frowned at the obstacle ahead.

The gate fed directly into mountainous peaks on either side. He didn't much care for his odds by just walking up to the gate, so he moved towards the mountains. He dismounted his horse, and gently patted its snout.

"Sorry, friend," he said. "You must go back now." He pulled a bit on the bridle, turning the horse back the way they'd come. "Go." He gave his horse a slight slap on the hind quarter, and the horse trotted off. Obedient as it was, the horse glanced back as his master. Eomer smiled sadly.

He turned back to the mountain.

"For Selanae."

He removed his helmet, knowing it would only call attention to him. His light hair didn't help, nor his armor, but he couldn't do anything about those things. The only weapons he carried were his knife in his boot and his sword.

The mountain was dusty and loose. He scrambled to get up towards the top of the Black Gate without making too much noise. He only had so much time before the sun would faintly light this dark land.

He did not wish to be seen when that happened.

His hands were covered in dirt, and little pebbles chipped away at his gloves and got inside. His skin started to feel the effects, but Eomer pushed that out of mind. He was nearing the top.

The ground below him on the outside was far from him, and desolate. On the other side, however, was a host of orcs, the numbers of which he'd never seen. It made Saruman's army seem normal.

They crawled over the land, like ants as far as Eomer could see. There weren't just orcs, but goblins, trolls, and wargs. He hadn't seen so many, all at once. The sound of their fighting with one another hummed in his ears. They snarled and growled and roared.

Easily thousands separated him from the tower. He hoped Selanae was there, and still alive. But it would be for nothing if he could not reach her in one piece.

Eomer swallowed hard, and started descending down the mountain side. His heart thumped wildly, and he couldn't help but hear Aragorn's words in his mind.

_"It would be suicide,"_ he'd said.

He pursed his lips together, glaring at the offending creatures below him. For now, he would risk anything.

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She stood stiffly but with an air of confidence that filled the room. Her hair was twisted in odd directions and stood straight in other places. The black clothing she wore, as well as the dark colors she added to her lips and eyes, made her seem all the more pale and intimidating. The studs of the metal and armor made her appear even deadly to touch.

Which might explain why the Mouth was circling her, examining her appearance but never reaching out to her. Selanae watched him, her eyes always challenging him.

"Good," the Mouth hissed between jagged teeth and saliva. He stopped in front of her, facing her head on. "Our master wishes us to patrol the land."

She raised a bored eyebrow at him.

"Patrol?" she repeated. "I am better at so much more." The Mouth grinned.

"The master knows the men are coming," he said. "Maybe they are already trying to invade Mordor. The Ranger King is crafty, but he will die in these lands."

Selanae nodded, her eyes focused on the task, and her voice leaden but hollow. "Then let us hasten his death."

The Mouth grinned again, and pointed to a staircase. Their footsteps together echoed like doom off the black stone walls. The pace was slow but deliberate. Selanae's movements were automatic, her leisurely grip on her sword's hilt customary.

They left the cool air of the tower and stepped out to the dingy and smoky light of day. The air was smoky, but that was normal. Mt. Doom cackled in the distance.

Selanae's scrutinizing gaze immediately found a target. Two goblins bickered in the middle of a host of imbeciles. She wasted no time in stalking right up to them, leaving the Mouth to observe.

"It's mine!" one goblin said, this one short and with ears that flopped over. A taller goblin with a large nose snatched at something the first goblin held.

"Give it to me! Or--"

The tall goblin suddenly turned, realizing someone was approaching. Selanae didn't even blink as she unsheathed her sword and lopped off the goblin's head. The shorter one gasped, just a second before Selanae pivoted and swung the sword horizontally. There was a thick, wet _pluck_ of a sound as the head flew through the air and landed at the feet of some orcs.

Normally, they would cheer. Normally, they would dive in to eat the flesh. Normally, they would act as orcs.

They all froze, staring between the two dispatched heads and this new and dangerous human. She stared back, her eyes moving from each of them as they flinched.

"Whom do you serve?" she said steadily.

There was a collective pause as doubt and fear permeated the smoky air.

"Sauron!" all shouted.

Slowly, Selanae grinned, and swiftly turned from the group. She stalked off towards a different part of the area, again leaving the Mouth to watch.

He grinned after her before following her commanding lead.

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Something near the tower was going on. Eomer frowned, unsure of what it meant. The only thing he knew was that it was distracting the enemy—which was good for him.

He swallowed hard, pressing his back to his last hiding spot. He would have to go out. There would be no turning back after this. Luck might be on his side, if he moved quickly now, while the orcs and goblins were distracted. But he had no disguise, and the enemy was only so blind to him.

_Better move quickly, while I have an advantage._

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Two things caught her attention. The first were two very small-looking goblins, in line with a slew of idiots heading to the Black Gate in preparation for battle. They seemed to fight amongst themselves too, but the two small goblins were slinking away. Selanae turned to the second and more obvious thing. It was a man, dressed in red armor and sporting blond hair.

Selanae grinned, a gleam in her eyes as she ignored the goblins and turned her focus to the man. He darted behind a heap of rubble.

"What is it?" the Mouth asked behind her. Selanae was slightly impressed that he could read her well enough. She didn't bother to turn to him, but drew her sword.

The Mouth stared in the direction she looked. He hissed as he saw the man peak from behind the rubble.

He turned to the nearest orc with a bow.

"I want him alive," came a command from Selanae. The Mouth turned back to her, smiling as he saw the look on her face. It was like an animal, tracking its prey.

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He thought he was doing well, going about undetected. But suddenly something flew by his head and stuck into the rubble by him. Eomer's eyes widened as he glanced at the object. It was an arrow. Eomer's pulse raced, and he looked quickly ahead.

Loud roars rose to his ears, and he could see hundreds of orcs pointing their swords in his direction. Another arrow hit next to him, this one almost nicking his ear. Eomer quickly dropped down in a crouch.

_Should I go back?_ The wall was far away but he might still make it. _But Selanae…_

Something sharp pierced his left shoulder. The impact spun Eomer and flung him to the ground. He hid the cry of pain between clenched lips, and drew his sword. The roars of the orcs grew closer and closer.

Anxiety replaced the pain he felt, and Eomer got to his feet, his knees bent and stance ready for battle. They would not kill him without a fight.

They came, and Eomer raised his sword against them. It was awkward and painful, even one-handed, but that didn't stop him. One of the orcs bumped into the arrow sticking out of Eomer's shoulder, and the tumult it created made Eomer almost lose his sword.

_No!_ He regained his stance and swung his sword around, chopping off an orc's arm in the process. Energy surged through him, and he twisted to dodge being impaled, then brought his blade down heavily on his attackers.

The voice in the back of his mind told him this was pointless, but his heart would not let him to quit. He was the king now, of Rohan, a free country of Middle Earth. He was a fighter. A leader. And he would not lay down for death.

Suddenly a goblin tackled him, sneering into his face as he pinned Eomer to the ground. Other orcs and goblins surrounded them, cheering and waiting for his blood to further stain the land.

Eomer stared wide-eyed at the offending creature. He tried to move his arms, but the orcs around him stepped on his limbs, further immobilizing him. The goblin grinned and brought a knife to Eomer's eye. He lifted the blade high in the air, ready to plunge it in human flesh.

And then suddenly, the goblin's head was gone. Hot and foul blood spurted over Eomer, but he just stared at the headless goblin. The raised arm and knife fell harmlessly to the ground. Eomer gulped and glanced for whoever killed the goblin, hoping it was a helpful nod from destiny.

His eyes widened. His breath caught in his throat. The orcs around him cowered and opened up the circle they'd formed around him. They bowed to a new figure.

A dark figure. And a lithe figure, with a poise familiar to Eomer.

"Did I not instruct that he be taken alive?"

He knew that voice, but did not believe it. Selanae glared down at him, with such darkness and hatred in her eyes he hardly recognized her. She wore tight and dark apparel, such that it made her seem deadly and despicable.

_What is happening? _

Selanae stepped forward, her boot making solid contact with his chest. She pressed down and leaned over him. With her blade, she tilted his chin up, forcing him to behold her and also to feel the terror she wanted.

_No._

_ It can't be._

"A man," she said, her voice seething with glee that was hardly pure. Her eyes traveled over his body, and Eomer couldn't help but feel almost naked to her purposes. "From Rohan." She grinned and gave him a slight kick before turning away.

Eomer blinked.

_What?_ She was gone, just like that. Eomer glanced at the nearest orc, wondering what was next. But no orc moved. Instead a hideous _thing_ stepped forward. It was like a man, but with . . . _teeth_. That was all Eomer could see. Bloody teeth, grotesque and slimy. Cuts around the mouth, spread tight and painful to see even as the thing grinned at him.

This thing motioned to the orcs, and suddenly Eomer found himself hoisted over one's shoulder. Another bound his hands and soon they were moving.

His mind took him back to Saruman's tower, even as he now entered Sauron's. That familiar cold terror seized him, even more so now. He held no hope. His purpose here was in vain.

He just didn't know how it could happen or why she gave in.

Or just how much he would suffer because of it.


	16. Tell Me

**Tell Me**

The jostling as he was taken higher and higher within the tower made Eomer sick. His stomach already felt at odds from the pain he felt in his shoulder, and as he was thrown to the ground, Eomer purged anything in his stomach.

He coughed and spit on the gray stone. And then the orc that carried him kicked him.

Eomer's body slid back and he couldn't suppress a groan. His body heaved, shuddering as he tried to vomit again. Nothing came, but the pain he felt seemed to travel back and forth from his shoulder to his stomach.

Orcs had poisoned arrows, he knew, but he wasn't sure if that was what caused him this extreme pain. It might have simply been how he was moved here. Or it might be seeing Selanae so . . . evil.

She stood before him now, though Eomer couldn't recall seeing her since his capture. Beside her was that thing, with the huge teeth and mouth.

"Sauron bids you find all he knows, and then report to him," the thing said to her. Eomer watched, horrified as she nodded with that sickening gleam in her eyes. The thing retreated from her side, but stayed in the room. Eomer glanced between it and Selanae.

"His sword?" she asked suddenly. A goblin brought it forward. She picked it up, gave it one look, and tossed it aside. "Have you searched him?"

The goblin shook his head, and moved forward.

"Leave us," came a harsh command from Selanae. The goblin froze, his eyes on Eomer. But he bowed and left, rather hastily. It was only him, Selanae, and the thing now.

And Eomer couldn't deny he felt terrified.

She circled him, her boots making the only noise other than his ragged breathing. Her eyes never left him, and Eomer found it hard to return the gaze with any sense of courage. Part of him was disgusted.

She looked so . . . _dead_. Her eyes were outlined with black. Her hair, normally soft and brown, looked darker now and harsh like the rest of her. Eomer noticed the armor she wore, especially the sharp metal bits embedded on the gloved hands, the boots, her elbows—anywhere that could inflict more harm.

_On me._

She suddenly knelt with one knee on his chest, the other by his side. The quick move had Eomer gasping, though he scolded himself for showing it. His mind raced with thoughts, wondering why she had turned, why, how, especially with the prophecy—

Her hands darted to the arrow, and viciously she ripped it out of his shoulder. Eomer howled in pain, and he tried to roll it off, and get away from her.

She slapped her hand over his mouth, even though he continued to moan at the throbbing pain.

"Look at me," she whispered harshly at him. Eomer's eyes watered, but he opened them anyway. Those eyes . . . once so beautiful, but now devoid of any humanity. "You will answer my questions."

Immediately, he shook his head, though he didn't know why. She couldn't honestly expect him to betray his world. But Selanae's eyes narrowed, and she brought the arrow close to his face, his blood and bits of flesh still on it.

"I can put this back," she said, again grinning. Eomer's stomach twisted again, and he closed his eyes to stop from showing any more weakness.

He felt her fingers on him, and his eyes shot open. Selanae clawed at his armor with her dangerous hands. His body stiffened as she grasped at the armor's clasps, and undid them. With the quickest of movements, she yanked on the armor and pushed on his body so he was left with no protection but his tunic and regular clothing.

Her mouth turned up in another grin. Again, her eyes moved over his body, helpless as he lay with his hands tied before him, and in nothing more than clothes suitable for a late meal.

She tossed his armor towards the hideous teeth and mouth thing, not even glancing at it as she did. Eomer wondered who was in charge. She never acknowledged the thing, but yet he ordered her to interrogate . . .

He'd forgotten about that, albeit momentarily. Selanae, however, did not.

"What is your name?" she asked.

Eomer blinked. _Does she not remember?_ If not, how? What sort of darkness did Sauron work on her?

She kicked him in the side for his hesitation. The metal on her boots added weight to her force, and Eomer hissed at the pain.

"Answer me!" she demanded. She moved towards him again, her foot ready to slam into his body.

"Do you not know?" Eomer asked weakly. He looked up at her, hopeful yet he didn't know why. Maybe, if she didn't know, it was better—less painful. It'd mean she couldn't help herself from Sauron's power.

She knelt by his side, reaching out a metal studded hand to his face. She caressed it, though it did not comfort him.

"I know who you are, Eomer," she said, that gleam of death back in her eyes. "But I want to hear it from you." With that, she punched him in the face. His head knocked against the ground, and he immediately felt his blood run from his cheek. He was stunned.

_Selanae_

_ Why?_

She dug her hand against the wound in his shoulder, making him scream through clenched teeth.

"Tell me," she hissed at him.

"Eomer," he spat out, almost as desperate as he was disgusted. The pressure against his shoulder did not cease. "Son of Eomund, nephew of Theoden, and heir to the throne of Rohan."

He expected some relief from his torment, but found Selanae denied him that. In fact, the pressure in his wound increased. Eomer gritted his teeth together.

"And?" she prompted. The lightness of her tone didn't escape Eomer's notice. How it hurt!

"Please," he said before he could stop himself. "What more?"

"Theoden?" she asked. The room began to spin, and Eomer shut his eyes.

"Theoden has fallen," he managed to say. He panted between words and the pain. "I am the new King of Rohan."

Suddenly the pressure ceased, though his shoulder still throbbed. Eomer's chest rose and fell quickly. He kept his eyes shut. Selanae moved from his side, and he could hear her circling him again as he lay on the cold floor.

"Why are you here?" she asked. Her voice contained no remorse, no emotion, not even anger. She simply moved to the next question.

Eomer swallowed.

"To save you," he said. Laughter filled the room, but it was anything but happy to him.

"Save me?" she repeated. He heard an echo of laughter from the thing with the large teeth and mouth. "You, Eomer King, cannot even save yourself from capture and certain torment." She knelt by him again, her eyes mirthful as they studied him. "But I'm glad you came. You've given me something to do."

It dawned on him that she hadn't threatened him with death. Part of him wished she had.

Suddenly she grabbed his bound wrists and stood. She twisted her body, much like he'd seen her do in fighting. But this was not graceful or in defense of any good. Her movements were harsh and straight-forward. She slid him across the floor, quickly making him collide with a pillar. It caught him in the side, and Eomer coughed as his stomach threatened to revolt yet again.

"Where are the rest of your men?" she asked. Her tone was still indifferent, almost bored. A chill went through Eomer.

_I cannot betray them_, he thought. With that, he clamped his mouth shut, and watched her. Selanae's eyes flickered to him. He flinched.

"Where, Eomer King?" she repeated, her eyes flashing with sudden rage. She took a step towards him. Eomer swallowed.

"I will not betray my country," he said. It came out slightly wavering, but he tried his best to steel his features. She took another step to him. "Betrayal doesn't come as easily for me as it does you."

Bold words, he knew, but it made her step falter. But she smiled and strode purposefully to his side. He followed every movement, and as she drew closer, his body became more and more tense.

"You think your words can hurt me, Eomer?" she asked. "You know nothing, son of Eomund. You don't know who I am, nor what I am capable of." She knelt by his side, leaning over him so her face was near his. "You don't know that we know the heir of Isildur and his men come this way."

Eomer could hardly breathe evenly. Her whispers tickled him, and made him shiver at the same time.

"Your stubbornness will only give you pain," she said. "How far away are they?"

Eomer pulled his head away from hers, refusing to look at her or feel her so close to him. His heart ached with every poisonous word she spoke.

"You are wasting your time," he said quietly. He glanced back at her as she started to grin.

"I was hoping you'd say that," she said, standing. "I have all the time in the world, Eomer. And torturing you is not a waste to me."

Eomer shut his eyes as she kicked him in the side, the first of many blows.

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A/n: I'll update quickly, before you all start throwing stuff at me. ;o) But please review! 


	17. Fading Hope

**A/n:** Thank you for the reviews, and to Sarah, the friendly reminder to update! Lol :o) FYI, some future chapters aren't going the way I want, so I'm rewriting them, but I still have a few chapters till then, so I'll update at about the same pace. Here's a nice long chapter for you all.

**Fading** **Hope**

The pain grew too much to bear, and only now was he waking to it. He didn't know when he passed out or how long ago, but he was sorry to see he was still in the same room, with Selanae staring at him cruelly. The creature with the large, hideous mouth stood by her side.

"He awakens," the thing said. Selanae smiled and drew her sword.

Eomer closed his eyes briefly. This wasn't how he wanted to start again. This wasn't how he wanted to see Selanae.

"There's something you should know, Eomer," she said, circling him again. "Especially before we resume our conversation." Her jagged blade poked him, and then traced over his body as she continued pacing around him. "I know your friends are coming. I know they can't be far, and that they seek to destroy Sauron. It really doesn't matter to me if I find out what I want in time or not. But if you cooperate, I will make your existence more tolerable."

Eomer narrowed his eyes at her.

"If you know so much, why bother to interrogate me?" he asked. She stopped, as did the blade over him. He felt the tip dig into him slightly, into his side.

"I want to know their plan," she said. "They cannot hope to defeat Sauron or his army. What advantage do they think they have? Tell me this, Eomer."

Images of the halfings flashed to his mind, and then his sister. _Eowyn_He shut his eyes. She was all he had left that mattered. _Survive for her, Eomer. Fight for her. And the Mark._

"I have nothing to tell," he said, opening his eyes to see Selanae standing over him still. Their eyes locked. The determination and evil in her eyes cut him deeply. He'd seen her determination before, but never for such dark purposes. No, she'd only wanted to be free. And he had convinced her to stay and fight for Middle Earth.

_And now she does fight, but for dominion and slavery of the free peoples._

_ Why did I ever meet her, if it was to come to this?_

Suddenly he yelped. Her blade cut into his side, slicing it enough to draw blood and pain. His bound hands flew to his side, feeling blood there. Before he could even think of defending himself, Selanae kicked the fresh cut. Eomer bit down on his lip, trying not to make a sound or grant her any satisfaction.

She grabbed him by the ankles and dragged him across the floor. He didn't know why or what was next, but his eyes flew open as he felt his knife in his boot. _How could I have forgotten!_ Not that the blade's presence suddenly gave him the upper hand, but it was better than nothing. He hoped Selanae did not remember it. Yet he felt her fingers press into his ankle, distinctly hitting the blade. He waited for her to be angry at the discovery, but she didn't even blink an eye. She just pressed again into the knife's hilt and moved her hand to grasp his feet better.

Suddenly she swung her weight around and his, sending him sliding again into a pillar. He winced as he hit it, but his mind lingered on his knife.

_How did she miss it?_

His eyes widened as another possibility came to him, even as she kicked him in the jaw. Blackness and white bursts flashed over his vision. He felt another kick to his side, and yelled out a curse in Rohirric. His sight returned to normal, just in time to see her drop to her knees and land a fist to his shoulder.

Eomer couldn't bite back a scream. His face felt flush and his neck was taut with the tension of agony. All thoughts fled his mind as he solely focused on not screaming again.

"They're here," the hideous mouth said, or something like that. Eomer knew he should listen closely. "I will go out to meet them."

"Wait," Selanae said. She picked up Eomer's armor and tossed it to the thing. "Let them see this."

"He's not needed anymore," the thing said. Eomer watched as Selanae nodded.

"He'll be dead when you return," she said. The words made his heart harden as if being sunk by lead.

The thing glanced at Eomer, though Rohan's king still couldn't determine what served as the thing's eyes. "Are you not fighting?"

Selanae stared at Eomer, a glint in her eyes. "Soon." The creature nodded and left with Eomer's armor.

Eomer swallowed, his throat grating dryly. Selanae stepped towards him, her sword pointed down at him as she neared. She let the blade touch over him lightly, across his stomach and at his hands.

She smiled as she suddenly whipped the blade past his hands and sheathed it. Eomer stared at her, wondering why he felt no pain yet. She held out a hand to him, and that's when he noticed she'd cut his bindings away.

He blinked, and his jaw dropped.

"Hurry, Eomer," she said. Still stunned, he took her hand, and she helped him to his feet. It was the first time since his capture that he'd stood, and almost immediately he began to fall. Selanae quickly grabbed him, steadying him.

"Hold still for a moment," she said, her voice no longer dripping with malice. "Your wounds aren't terribly serious, though I'm sorry I had to do this."

He blinked again, trying to make sense of everything. "It all was an act?" _The knife._

She laughed, a melodious sound that almost warmed him. "I thought you would have known for sure after I found the knife in your boot."

Eomer scowled. "I thought maybe so, but I never expected you to be so . . ."

"Evil?" Selanae filled in.

"Violent too," Eomer said. He grimaced as waves of pain went through him.

"Me neither." She left him standing and picked up his sword. "Aragorn needs us. Can you fight?"

Honestly, he did not know. His body ached and he bled from several wounds, most by Selanae's hands. But he took the sword from her.

"Yes."

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The roar was back. Thousands, tens of thousands of orcs, goblins and trolls marched to the Black Gate, which was open. Beyond it, Selanae could see a group of men that was insignificant in comparison.

"I take it they don't plan on winning this fight," she said to Eomer. He shot her a glare.

"It's not about winning," he said grimly. "It's a distraction."

That surprised her, but it made sense. "For the hobbits?" she asked. Eomer nodded. "They were all right a few hours ago."

"You've seen them!"

Selanae grinned.

"Yes. About the same time I saw you," she said. "I figured it would be better for you to be caught than them." He almost glared at her but nodded his agreement. "Sorry."

He shook his head.

"I'll heal," he said, turing his attention to the crowd of enemies ahead. "Just don't be so hard next time."

A shadow flew overhead, and Eomer ducked. Selanae watched the shadow.

"Nazgul," she said without any alarm. The winged beast and the Nazgul circled back to the tower where they stood. "Eomer, give me your sword." He frowned, not understanding. Selanae sighed and just took it from him.

The Nazgul landed in front of the tower, not just one but two of them. Selanae quickly kicked Eomer to the ground. His body hit hard on the rocky ground, and she didn't miss the flash of pain in his eyes. She ignored it for now—she had to. With a sword in either hand, she held both at Eomer's throat.

"Who is this?" the Nazgul hissed in his dead voice. Selanae glared at him, her defiant confidence back.

"The new king of Rohan," she said. "I want them to see his death firsthand." The Nazgul laughed—it came out as an ill squeal—and Selanae pressed the tips of the swords to Eomer's throat. "Stand, Rohan filth."

Eomer's eyes flashed at her, but he stood.

"To the Black Gate," she said. She kept the swords at his throat. They were criss-crossed, and one coordinated movement could easily remove his head. A blade on either side of his neck kept him very limited in movement, but they had no choice. They headed towards the fight, with the two Nazgul again on their beasts, and circling them closely.

Selanae hadn't wanted them to follow, but it seemed they had nothing better to do. One would fly ahead, but the other would stay close, maybe waiting to see Eomer die. It was enough to make her follow the charade.

Eomer walked backwards, his head high and his neck tight as the two blades rested too close for comfort. His eyes bore into her, but Selanae ignored it. At least with him as an apparent hostage, they were not in danger, even as they walked through crowds of orcs and goblins who just ached to get into battle.

They continued forward, until they climbed to the top of the Black Gate. Selanae looked down on the forces of men, struggling to survive against the bountiful forces of Sauron.

Just then, a Nazgul and its beast screamed, making the men below cower. The other Nazgul looked to Selanae.

It was time, or so he thought. Selanae swallowed, and glanced at Eomer.

"Behold your king!" one of the Nazgul hissed. His eerie voice penetrated each man, so much so that the Gondorian soldiers and Rohirrim looked to the top of the gate.

From those forces came a collective gasp.

"Release him!"

Selanae looked down to see the command had come from Aragorn. She almost grinned at seeing him, but could not. Instead, she held the blades high and still in place to kill Eomer.

"Kill him," came a calm hiss from a Nazgul. He sat on the other side of the gate, perched on his beast and eagerly watching.

"No!" came shouts from the men below. Selanae stared at Eomer and his wide brown eyes. He seemed stoic, unwavering, almost overly so. It was defensive. _He doesn't trust me._

Not that she blamed him. Still, it hurt her, what she'd done, done to Eomer. And obviously, it still made him wary of her. But there was no way she could kill him, nor did she ever plan to.

Suddenly, Selanae withdrew the blades and spun her body around. She raised her right arm and threw her blade at the sitting Nazgul. The jagged blade sang through the air, and sunk into the Nazgul's dark hole of a face. That tortured scream echoed over the land, and quickly was followed by cheers from the men.

But the enemy was quick to move. The other Nazgul screamed overhead and started to dive for her. Selanae pushed Eomer to the ground. The winged beast was only the width of a blade away from them.

"We need to get off this wall!" Selanae shouted. Eomer grabbed his sword from her, his eyes honing in on the beast as it circled back. It was readying for another dive.

"Quickly!" he said. Eomer put his arms around Selanae and rolled them both over the gate's edge. Air flew by them as they fell to the earth. Selanae braced herself for a terrible impact. The ground grew closer, closer, closer—

Suddenly they hit, but it wasn't the hard ground as she expected. Air rushed by them still, and it was the sound of Eomer laughing that anchored her.

She opened her eyes to see they were on an eagle, the largest she'd ever seen. Selanae glanced at Eomer, who merely grinned.

"Did you plan that?" she asked. Eomer just laughed again.

The eagle swooped around, closer to the ground and over the hordes of orcs fighting.

"Ready?" Eomer asked. His eyes were alight with the thrill of battle, even though Selanae could see the weariness his body exuded. She nodded, and they both dropped down off the eagle's back and landed on some orcs.

Selanae quickly realized she had no sword, hers embedded in a dead Nazgul. But she lashed out a kick and leapt into the air to knock down an orc. She dropped down and broke the thing's neck before she took his sword.

Orcish blades were hardly sophisticated, but they did their job. Selanae swung the blade in the air, turning in circles as she met other foes. The orcs snarled at her and charged. Selanae quickly blocked, again raising her sword high, and then dropped to her knees. She spun on them and thrust her sword into the belly of a goblin.

Something hit her from behind, and Selanae fell on her knees. She made herself fall further, on her stomach, and then rolled to face her foes. Two orcs howled in unison as they swung their blades down on her. It happened slowly in her mind, and for brief moments, she felt the horror of being in danger.

At the last second, she rolled over again and somersaulted forward. But in the process, she dropped her sword. She continued to her feet, only to be surrounded by the enemy.

She wasted no time in launching her own offensive. Selanae held her arms out and twisted around. Her fists and forearms connected with necks and heads, nothing fatal, but enough to protect herself.

It wasn't enough. Suddenly she felt a searing pain in her leg. She bit hard on her lip, and made herself stay standing. An orc kicked her, sending her to the ground. When she looked up, a group of them grinned, relishing her demise.

Selanae drew a slow breath. Her hand stayed over her thigh, the outside below her hip wet with fresh blood. _Now what?_ Her eyes darted for some solution, but even she could see herself beyond disadvantage. It wasn't until two orcs were hewn down that she realized maybe this wasn't the end.

A third orc fell, then a fourth, each roaring out last breaths. But it was the roar from her savior that made Selanae focus. Eomer was there.

He swung his sword mightily, his eyes alight with fury. The speed and strength behind his attacks amazed her, and he didn't seem to tire, even though his left shoulder was near useless.

Suddenly there was another helping, then two or three. Selanae thought she saw Aragorn as well, slashing away at the enemies.

Eomer came into her view. Selanae hadn't tried to get to her feet, though she had more than enough room and opportunity. As he stood over her, he grinned, and gave her his right hand. Selanae took it and got to her feet.

"Thank you," she said, though for more than the help getting up. He nodded with that same grin, which was bordering on arrogance.

"Are you all right?" His eyes flickered to her thigh. Selanae glanced at his side as well.

"Have you seen your reflection lately?" she quipped with a raised eyebrow. Eomer laughed, and grabbed a fallen sword for her.

"Come," he said. "There are plenty of the enemy waiting."

They fought, close to each other and for what seemed like hours. The number of orcs and goblins never seemed to dwindle. Selanae grew weary, and she knew Eomer was suffering as well. All of them were—they were in the fight for their lives. Each blow she blocked made her body vibrate like iron against a bell. Each time she swung her sword, her arms and shoulders screamed for relief.

Things were getting desperate, she knew. The number of men shrank. And when the remaining Nazgul screeched in the skies and took off towards Mt. Doom, Selanae knew something was dreadfully wrong.

It wasn't until those screeches again were heard that she realized things had changed in their favor. All the men, orcs, goblins, trolls, and even one woman stared at Mordor as the Great Eye bulged. The dark tower started to rumble, and suddenly a huge wave of destruction swept over it and Mordor. It traveled over the land and those fighting, shaking them.

And as it passed through Selanae, she felt the most indescribable agony. Her mind screamed in torment, and her head throbbed. It brought her to her knees. She couldn't tell if the screaming was just in her mind, or if she was screaming aloud as well. But soon a black curtain fell over her consciousness.

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Eomer had his doubts about Middle Earth surviving this war. But he yelled out excitedly when the tower fell. As Mordor crumbled before his eyes, any elation he felt died quickly.

Across from him, Selanae screamed, her hands outstretched as if she were frozen. She fell to her knees. Her face was twisted in such raw and primal torture that Eomer could only stare. It was only when she fell unconscious that he found his legs worked.

He ran to her, yelling her name.


	18. Recoveries

**Recoveries**

"What is wrong with her?" Eomer asked, glancing over Selanae's still form. They sat in a chamber in Minas Tirith, with Aragorn by her side as well. They'd only just arrived earlier in the day, but Selanae had not regained consciousness. The healer king shook his head.

"It reminds me of the black breath," he said. "You say she was affected when Sauron fell?"

Eomer nodded. "Almost at the same time." He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face tiredly. He hadn't rested since they returned, though his body more than needed it. A healer saw him after the battle, but Eomer ignored the call for sleep.

Aragorn frowned as his eyes glanced over Selanae's body. She no long wore her dark, bullying attire, but hints of the black shades remained on her face, by her eyes and lips.

"You haven't told me what happened," Aragorn said. "When we first saw you, she held you captive and threatened to kill you." He paused, flickering a glance at her again. "Not to mention she looked like death."

Eomer almost smiled, until his mind flashed over with the memories. How brutal she had been. Cruel, unfeeling. Delighting in his torment. He had to remind himself it was an act. Wasn't it? There were moments he was sure she was truly in Sauron's grasp, and that Middle Earth was doomed.

He felt Aragorn's probing gaze on him, and cleared his throat.

"I don't know why she went along with it," he said. His eyes glazed over as he saw her standing over him right after he'd been shot with the arrow. Not realizing it, Eomer gently rolled his shoulder.

"She was their leader, under Sauron. It was an act, of course," Eomer hurriedly added in her defense. "But there were times I wasn't sure." He shook his head. "She pretended to be on their side, and they _feared_ her."

"Why would they fear her?" Aragorn voiced aloud. Eomer shook his head, unsure of it himself. He had a suspicion, but he couldn't bring himself to think of it.

Suddenly a new voice joined them. "They had plenty of reason to, when she was with them before." Eomer and Aragorn turned to see Gandalf, whose eyes were soft as he saw the confusion over their features. He shifted his gaze to Selanae, and smiled.

"What do you mean?" Aragorn asked. Gandalf stared at the king.

"There is much that you don't know," he said. "And I think only Selanae should share it, if she chooses to. Eomer knows a hint of what I speak of." Eomer looked away, even as his memory replayed the torture she gave him.

He felt Aragorn's eyes on him, but he couldn't say another word.

"While we're on that subject," Gandalf continued, his tone suddenly lighter, "Eomer, I believe you have enough injury to drive every healer scolding after you."

Eomer gave a short nod and stood. With a reluctant look at Selanae, he sighed.

"One of us will stay with her," Aragorn said softly. Eomer looked to him gratefully.

"Thank you."

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His body ached unbearably now. He ignored it before, the whole journey back to Minas Tirith, but now his shoulder screamed at him and the cut in his side burned as if splitting apart.

"Eomer!"

He looked ahead sharply, surprised but delighted as he saw his sister. She grinned and ran towards him.

She _glowed!_ He'd never seen her so happy, so alive! His jaw dropped.

"Eowyn," he said barely above a whisper. She was well, he'd known, but to see her so recovered, not just in body but in spirit! It eased his heart.

She almost ran over him, and hugged him tightly. Eomer smiled, and tried to hold back a groan.

Immediately she released him.

"What? What is it?" Her eyes searched over him. "You're hurt!"

Eomer shook his head. "I'm all right. I just—"

"—need to get this armor off and get some rest, brother," she said with some command. She took him by the arm and pulled him to his room. "You should have taken off that armor as soon as you got back!"

Eomer closed his eyes briefly. The last thing he wanted now was Eowyn's badgering. He stood still as she started to unlatch his armor, and toss it to the side. He grimaced as she removed some pieces which covered his wounds.

Her eyes widened as she saw dried blood all over his clothing. Beneath his shirt were bandages, holding him together. Purple and yellowing bruises only showed more evidence of his injury and made Eowyn curse.

"Those damn orcs," she muttered. "I hope the ones who did this to you are dead." Eomer felt a pang in his chest. Hesitantly, he sought the right words to calm his sister.

"Evil is defeated, Eowyn."

She nodded with another smile, and went to his door. Eomer raised an eyebrow as she stopped a servant and asked for a bath to be drawn. She turned back to him.

"You need a bath desperately, Eomer," she said with a teasing grin. "And after that, we will talk. I have much to tell you."

She tossed him a bottle of scented oil, seemingly from nowhere, and in a flurry of movement, left him.

Eomer blinked.

"So much for resting."

Eowyn returned as he was just finishing getting dressed. His fingers worked to straighten his shirt, and then he reached for his armor.

"Eomer, don't even think about it," she said, again with that badgering tone. "Relax. The war is over."

He froze at that. It hadn't really gotten to him that the war was over. His people were safe. Eowyn was alive, as was he and his friends. And Selanae . . .

He swallowed and nodded to Eowyn, hoping she wouldn't press him about his reaction.

"You _are _tired, brother," she said softly. She gently grasped him by the wrist and led him to the bed. "Rest. I'll tell you about Faramir later."

Eomer gave in, and fell back on the bed. He nodded at her words, and closed his eyes.

After he heard his door shut, his eyes shot open and he hastily sat up.

"Faramir!"

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_He screamed out again, the sound of agony filling that cold, stone room. Blood dripped from his wounds, which became more and more creative and prolific. She smiled at the sight, and behind her she heard the approving laughter of the Mouth._

_ And yet inside, her mind screamed at her to stop. But she couldn't. She was too good at this. She drew her sword. With a quick slash, she cut him again over his stomach. Again, and a cut appeared over his knee. Again, and his shoulder spouted more blood._

_ And then, suddenly, something held her back. Her name sounded in her ears, her name like death._

"Selanae."

_Eomer__ again was before her, writhing at the torture he endured. Blood dripped off the tip of Selanae's sword. She followed a drop, sliding down the steel and falling to the black stone._

Selanae gasped as her eyes flew open. Light flooded her vision, and she quickly raised her arms to shield her eyes. Something pulled her arms back, forcing them down.

"Selanae!"

She froze. _Who is here?_ She ventured to open her eyes again, squinting through the shafts of light. _Where _is_ here?_ The room was no longer black or dark, but still stone. She lay on a bed, and through a window she could hear children laughing. Her eyes finally adjusted, and she saw Aragorn at her side.

He smiled softly at her, a hint of sadness in his eyes. Rich clothing covered him, a burgundy tunic, and even a crown over his head. Selanae frowned. His hair was smooth, as if it'd been brushed.

"What's happened?" she asked. He let out a chuckle.

"The war is over. The Ring is destroyed." Light shone in his eyes as he smiled again. "Sauron is defeated."

She felt a stab of pain in her head at the name, but winced it away. However, Aragorn noticed it.

"You've been unconscious since he fell," he said. "I think it's because of some connection between you and Sauron." Again that pain stabbed, but not as hard this time.

Selanae cleared her throat. "Well, I was in his tower for awhile." It was said in a nonchalant manner, but dread filled her heart. Aragorn said nothing for a few moments.

"Eomer has not told me yet what happened, other than you pretended to be on Sauron's side," he started. "Do you want to speak of it?"

"No," she quickly said. Aragorn's eyes fell from her. "I . . . I'm . . . ." She shook her head, and felt relieved when he nodded.

"Get some rest," he said, standing. Selanae glanced at her arms, then the rest of her. She was still dirty from battle, the black attire gone but she felt the darkness still.

"Could you call for a bath?" she asked. "I need one." He chuckled again.

"Of course."

The bath was heavenly, the cleanest she'd felt since . . . well, since being captured and torturing Eomer. Getting the black shades off her skin was quite the task, but she succeeded.

The gash over her thigh stung as she bathed, but the wound was on the mend. As she quickly dressed in a gown, the wound throbbed a bit, but did not open.

She stopped in front of a mirror.

It wasn't the same person staring back. She looked like the old Selanae, the one that didn't have evil in her. But the darkness was still there, in her mind, in her memories. How she hated that knowledge.

_What knowledge? You don't even remember everything._ True, but she knew enough to know that the Mouth wasn't lying. For some reason or another, she aligned herself years ago with Sauron. She served him, killed for him. She couldn't remember who or why, but she felt the blood on her hands. And for some reason, she'd run away, escaped.

Selanae gulped, and turned from the mirror. With a heavy sigh, she emerged to her room.

Gandalf sat there, his grandfatherly smile greeting her.

"You look better, child," he said. "We were worried about you." Selanae nodded, though she glanced away. She couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. "Is something bothering you?"

She flashed a glare at him. He _knew_, probably more than she did, and yet he feigned innocence. It was irksome. She suddenly wiped away the expression on her face and adopted a faint, indifferent smile.

"How is Eomer?" Her voice almost quivered, despite her resolve. But if Gandalf noticed it, he for once didn't give her grief over it.

"He is fine, resting in his room as we speak," he said. "He was quite concerned. He wouldn't leave your side."

Selanae nodded, her eyes downcast again. She whirled around, turning her back on Gandalf. "Good," she said, again with her façade in place.

"How do you feel now, knowing your past?"

She tensed, her body overcome with the iciest feeling. Slowly, she turned to face him.

"You knew," she said plainly, though inside she wanted to take his staff and beat him with it. The wizard merely nodded. "So you lied before, when you said you'd told me about the whole prophecy."

Again he nodded.

"How do you think I feel?" she asked, getting to his original question. "I've learned I have a black past, siding with the greatest enemy in history." She took a step towards him, her voice rising. "I have blood on my hands, not just from then, but from torturing a certain king of Rohan! I've learned I'm not just a skilled fighter, but a blood-thirsty monster that even the Nazgul feared!" She took another step and yanked Gandalf's staff from his hand. His eyes widened in alarm, and Selanae just hurled the thing out the window.

"Selanae," he said, standing. She shook her head.

"Why did I even have to come back?" Her eyes flashed with anger, though her heart rent with deepest sorrow. "I had the chance to start over, to forget. I was happy. And then you tell me a half-truth about some sham of a prophecy and then toss me into hell!"

"Sham?" Gandalf repeated. "What makes you think the prophecy wasn't true?" Selanae rolled her eyes.

"My being in Mordor did nothing. I tortured, threatened life, and acted with the blackest of hearts," she said, jabbing a finger in his chest. "And for what? Ultimately, the Ring was destroyed by the hobbits. _That_ is how Sauron was defeated." Selanae made herself stop. She stood straight, her fists clenched, and her eyes closed. Slowly, she opened them and stared straight at Gandalf. "Why, when all it brought was pain?"

He just smiled back, giving her a look that betrayed he knew something. As he remained quiet, Selanae grew more frustrated.

"Fine," she seethed. She rushed past him and out of the room. Selanae moved quickly down the hall, not caring who she passed or might have offended with her manner. She had no idea where she was, though Gondor was her best bet. Even so, she didn't know where she was headed. To make matters worse, as she moved, her limbs started to weaken. They felt limp and she had to brace herself against a wall so she didn't faint.

"Selanae," she heard, and then felt someone holding her up. "You haven't eaten in days. Come with me."

It was Aragorn, she knew.

"Is she all right?" she heard someone ask. She recognized the voice, a feminine one with a stubborn edge. _Eowyn_

"You shouldn't be walking around yet, Selanae," Aragorn said, pulling her along. Part of her wanted to resist, to push herself away and to disappear from those who knew her. But her body would not comply.

Aragorn and Eowyn dragged her back to her room.

"I'll fetch you some food," Eowyn said, a little too graciously for what Selanae expected.

Selanae shut her eyes, leaning back against the pillows she was placed on. She could feel Aragorn's presence in the room, his eyes pressing her.

"What?" she said, a bit testily considering her weakness. His responding smile was almost audible.

"I was just thinking of Gandalf. He's chasing his staff right now," he said. He chuckled at the thought before lapsing into silence.

Outside the room, servants bustled and workers patched up the city. The noise was almost soothing; at least, it distracted Selanae a bit. But not enough. She finally opened her eyes and stared at Aragorn. How she hated his soft eyes, his all-knowing, prying looks. But for all that, she knew he wasn't like others. He would understand.

"Did you know there was more to the prophecy than Gandalf said?" she asked. There was no dancing around. She couldn't play the games anymore. And Aragorn nodded.

"Though, he didn't tell me till yesterday."

A pitiful defense, but Selanae was too weak to bite Aragorn's head off. She closed her eyes again as pain seized her chest.

"Your past is long over, Selanae," she heard him say. "Don't torture yourself over it. Because of it, you brought us to succeed over Sauron."  
Again, that blasted name sent a jabbing pain in her head.

"I don't see how," she whispered. "All I did was . . ." Eomer's face, contorted with her torture, flashed in her mind.

"All you did was save us all. You think because the hobbits dropped the ring in Mt. Doom that you didn't play a role?" Aragorn chided. She just shook her head, still unwilling to open her eyes. But he chuckled. "I wasn't sure what happened, but Gandalf seemed to know. He said you would shield the hobbits from discovery."

Her eyes shot open, seeing nothing though as her memory replayed. The orcs, fighting . . . two smaller ones—too small. And then her decision to ignore them for greater prey.

"If they had been found, all would have been lost. At that point, not even you could stop the Ring from finding Sauron's hand."

He let her think on that, and the words kept replaying in her mind, even as she saw Eomer. Finally she refocused, turning to look at Aragorn.

"It just seems like so little, for so great a price," she said softly. Her voice grated slightly, hoarse from tiredness and stress. Again, the Gondorian king's eyes softened.

"You don't just mean you learning about your past," he observed. Selanae shook her head.

"No, although there's much I still don't know or understand about that," she said. "But I . . . Eomer . . ."

She shook her head and shut her eyes again. With a deep breath, she found the courage to look back at Aragorn.

"Does he know the truth?" she asked.

Aragorn shook his head, and that pang in her chest hit again.

"But I don't think it would change anything," he said.

"You don't know what I did to him."

He nodded in agreement, and stood.

"You're right," he said. "But he knows what you did, and yet he has been by your side as long as he physically could muster. I've only seen him do that for one other lady—Eowyn."

She didn't know what he was getting at there, but supposed it meant there'd be no ill will between them. He was half-way out the door when he turned back.

"Selanae," he started. "You've tried to prove you don't care about anything. To you, feelings are weakness, though that is a wrong thought. And yet, you've spent more time worrying about Eomer than yourself since you've awoken."

His eyes bore into hers.

"Perhaps you should consider the reason."

He left, leaving her stunned as he shut the door. She blinked several times, and finally shut her eyes, unwilling to think or analyze his words or any other plaguing thoughts.

* * *

a/n: I hope you enjoyed that! I'm revising my next chapter, so bear with me. Hopefully by the weekend (or sometime during it), I'll have it up. Please review! 


	19. Hauntings

**a/n:** Thanks for the reviews, and please keep them up! I'll admit--well, never mind. Just read this and tell me if you like it.**  
**

**Hauntings**

Eomer grimaced when he stretched. The pain triggered a yawn, which he promptly hid as he continued his way through the royal house. His shoulder felt tender still, and he rolled it once to test its mobility.

It would heal completely, he knew, but it would be awhile before he would wield a sword effectively. He wondered how he even managed at the Black Gate.

His heart sped up as he neared Selanae's room. Eowyn had told him she was awake now, and seemingly fine, albeit recovering still. He was as well, which became evident to everyone when he slept through two days. Eomer rounded the corner and prepared himself mentally to see her.

She wasn't there. He should have expected as much, or at least be used to disappointment where she was concerned.

That sounded wrong in his mind, but he shook it off.

Through her window, though, he heard the distinct sound of metal clanging. His steps were quick to the window.

Outside in the courtyard was Selanae. Her head was bowed and her hands on her hips. Eomer heard her sigh out harshly, as if angry. Her sword lay on the stone ground, though there was no one else around her who could have caused it.

Eomer let his gaze linger for a second longer before dashing out of the room.

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Her thigh ached a bit, but she knew the wound didn't cause her to drop her sword. She even argued herself over it for a moment before reality won.

Her mind was haunted. She kept seeing the Mouth, Sauron's Great Eye, and blood. Everywhere she looked, there was blood. Sometimes it was black, of orcs; other times, it was bright red and flowed like the river she woke up in years ago, when she was blissfully ignorant. And then there were faces. . . .

She didn't know who they were, but she knew what they meant.

Selanae swallowed; her throat remained dry. She had to stop this, quickly, before it got worse. And she knew who she'd see if it got worse.

She closed her eyes and without seeing, bent to retrieve her sword. It was the dragon-hilt again. Apparently, Eomer had set it aside for her.

_Eomer._ Before she could stop herself, she saw him. Lying on that cold, dark floor, at her mercy, though trying to appear in control. Blood flowing from his shoulder, from his side, from cuts and beneath bruises. Bits of his flesh, clinging to the arrow . . .

The sword fell again from her hand. It broke the chain of thoughts enough that she dropped to one knee and caught the blade before it clattered again. Again, she shut her eyes.

Focusing.

Slowly, she rose, the sword firmly within her grip, but loosely handled. She kept her eyes closed as she began to move.

One step forward and a graceful turn. With a swooping movement, she brought her left leg around, the point of her foot lightly brushing against the ground. Her arms extended, the sword following parallel to her foot, and her right arm for balance.

She completed a circle, then stepped forward again. The sword she brought directly above her, pointing to the sky. She twisted her body in a downward spiral, turning herself on one knee and coming back up again with another twist.

She swung the sword in an arc overhead, and thrust it forward. As if her target stung her, she recoiled, bringing her body straight and the sword down at her side. She held it diagonally, pointed to the ground, with her arm rigid.

Her eyes opened as she raised the sword swiftly and—

_Eomer!_

She dropped the sword like a hot poker, and stepped back. Her heart felt like lead, even though he smiled at her.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he said, stepping towards her. Selanae nodded politely, but looked towards the ground. She barely registered that he seemed rested, better. It didn't matter. "Are you well?"

Again, she nodded to the ground. "And you?"

He leaned forward and picked up her sword, handing it to her. She saw it in his hands, and knew he was waiting. With a deep breath, she brought her chin up to see him.

Her body went rigid. Instead of the clean, recovered King of Rohan, she saw the man she nearly broke in Mordor. She took the sword without really seeing it, even as the damning image before her played in her mind.

"I'm well. Quite better, actually," he said, a slight laugh to his tone. She almost heard him frown as he noticed her tension. "Selanae?"

She blinked, once, twice, three times. She saw the perplexity of his expression, his neat green tunic, those eyes, and his strong body. But she kept remembering the tortured, desperate looks he'd given her inside the dark tower.

Selanae quickly bowed to him. "Excuse, my lord." Sword in hand, she turned from him.

But he caught her quickly by the wrist, pulling her back.

"Selanae, please," he said. It was that plea that brought her eyes to his. His eyes were sad, worried, and yet . . . "Will you not speak with me?"

He was being nice—and not falsely. That threw Selanae off, enough that she found herself nodding.

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Eomer's spirits rose when she nodded. _Finally!_ He suspected she was blaming herself for what happened to him. He understood what she did, why, and knew it ultimately saved him and the rest of the world. But he had to make her understand that.

"I never had the chance to thank you," he started, walking through the courtyard. Selanae gaped at him, so much so that he couldn't suppress a grin. "For rescuing me, and not killing me." He meant it teasingly, but Selanae didn't smile. Or she did, but from the look in her eyes, she didn't find it amusing.

"I'm sorry for what I did," she said, rather quietly. She stared at the ground again. Eomer stopped, turning her to face him. He tipped her chin up with one hand, gently forcing to look him in the eye.

"Selanae," he whispered. Their faces were close, and Eomer felt his heart constrict as he saw the tortured gaze she showed. "I do not blame you. I never will."

Suddenly her eyes flashed, and then seemed to laugh at him. She stepped back from him with a wavering look, and Eomer could almost feel the coolness emanating from her.

"Really, Eomer?" she said with spiteful doubt. "You don't blame me for being allied with Sauron in the first place?"

Eomer's heart dropped. He knew there was a past, but he recognized the tone she used—

"You don't blame me for torturing you?" She stepped back towards him, her eyes glinting with darkness yet again. _She's trying to frighten you, to push you away._

_ Why?_

"Surely I could have found another way, Eomer," she said lowly. She brought a hand to his face, lightly sliding it over his cheek. "Surely I could have freed you without inflicting such pain."

Eomer glared at her for a moment. He sighed, and quickly tried again.

"Stop. Why do you do this?" he hissed, capturing her hand in his. "Why do you persist in trying to keep us apart? I've come to care for you more deeply than any woman."

A smirk lighted her dark look. "You care for an illusion. And I don't care to keep us together," she said simply. She straightened her posture and turned from him.

He didn't stop her this time.

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Eomer tried to pay attention to the discussion, and his struggle to do so was yet another reminder that he was unfit to be king. He frowned as Gandalf spoke.

"The people seem to be in good spirits, despite the damage," he said. "They understand that their lives won't be perfect overnight."

Aragorn nodded, and glanced to Eomer. "How fare the people of Rohan?"

Eomer shifted in his seat. "Recovering. There is much to be done at home." He glanced to the closed doors, where outside the room a faithful rider stood. "I've received word that the people are well enough for now, but we must prepare quickly for the seasons ahead."

"How do they bear the news of Theoden?" Gandalf asked. Eomer pursed his lips together and drew a silent breath.

"As well as can be expected," he said. "My uncle will be missed greatly."  
"And how do they receive the new king?"

Eomer felt frustration rise within him, but he knew Gandalf was asking valid questions.

"Well, I am told." Eomer shifted in his seat again. He noted that Gandalf glanced to Aragorn before responding.

"You aren't sure?" Aragorn asked, a slight smile at his lips. Even so, Eomer shook his head a bit miserably.

"There is much I'm unsure of."

Neither man or wizard spoke, but merely exchanged looks. Eomer fiddled with his fingers.

"What's happened with Selanae?"

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She had overreacted, and probably insulted the King of Rohan. She was convinced of it. All Selanae had to do was calm down, and remember that she had her whole life ahead of her. She didn't have to be alone, or remain in the dark.

That kept repeating in her mind as she walked into the large dining hall. It was already full, with Aragorn, his friends and fellowship and Eomer all seated and conversing.

However, the conversation seemed to cease as she wandered in. She knew she should have stuck to her room for this meal, like she had the others. With a self-conscious tug at her gown, she took another step forward.

"Selanae!" Aragorn greeted, standing. She'd been avoiding him since the day she nearly fainted from hunger. "Join us, please!"

She managed to smile as she approached the group. And of course, there was only one seat left. It was at the end of the table, by Eowyn.

Eomer was near, as was another man who she'd seen with Eowyn lately. Selanae swallowed and sat.

The meal continued, along with vibrant chatter. But she saw the looks Eomer shot her way.

"Selanae," Eowyn started up, "how are you faring tonight?"

Selanae almost groaned. But she indulged the polite conversation, and tried to seem normal to those around her.

There was much talk about Aragorn's coronation, an event to come in the next few weeks. Guests would start arriving in a week, and all would prepare for the grand event. Judging by the levity and talk around the table, it was the event to look forward to.

Selanae pitched in here and there in the talk, and tried to endure it to the end. It was at the end of the meal that she realized she failed. Eomer switched places with Faramir, Eowyn's apparent love. It put him closer to Selanae, and she quickly smiled at him.

He didn't smile back. A glance at Eowyn assured that she was busy with Faramir, and Eomer spoke lowly to Selanae.

"I . . . are you . . ." He sighed and tried again. "Did I do something . . . wrong this morning?" His dark eyes bore into her. His face was covered with lines of worry, and for a brief moment she felt bad to have made him feel so.

"No," she said, "I . . . I just needed a bit of privacy." She tried to smile reassuringly, but Eomer appeared almost insulted.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to trespass on your solitude," he said, leaning back in his chair.

"Eomer, that's not—" She sighed, and shook her head. _Never mind._ Selanae gulped down the rest of her goblet.

"Selanae, please," he said, leaning towards her again. He reached out to her, and took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. "Gandalf told me about you, and your past with Mordor." He shook his head. "I don't hold it against you. You're blaming yourself, and you shouldn't."

She raised an eyebrow at that.

"Shouldn't I?" She pulled back from him and his grasp. "If it weren't for me and my past, you wouldn't have been tortured."

Before Eomer could reply, Eowyn took it upon herself to interrupt.

"What?" she asked, a little too happily given the subject. "Is Selanae trying to take the blame?" She laughed merrily to Faramir. "I told you she is too self-sacrificing."

Eomer's eyes flashed a warning, but Eowyn didn't see it.

"Selanae," she continued, "we are both warriors, you know. We should go off and hunt those foul creatures."

Selanae gritted her teeth, but smiled. "Yes, I've heard about the defeat you brought upon the Witch King."

Perhaps Eomer's sister had too much to drink. "Yes, and with your skill in battle, there isn't anyone we women folk couldn't bring to their knees," Eowyn said, laughing. "We should go back to Mordor and slay those who tormented Eomer."

"Eowyn!" Eomer hissed. But Selanae just kept her smile in place.

"Indeed, Eowyn," she said, her voice surprisingly even and dull. Selanae leaned towards the White Lady. "But you needn't go as far as the Black Gate. The tormentor sits here at this very table."

Eowyn laughed, though a bit uncomfortably. Faramir glanced between the ladies, and over to Eomer.

"Selanae—" the new king tried to interrupt.

"Didn't she know?" Selanae asked beneath the roar of the dinner gathering. "Haven't you told her it was me who had you captured? Shot?" With each word, she leaned closer to Eowyn, and her words grew softer. "It was me, Eowyn, who tortured him. Each cut, each kick, each drop of blood I drew—it was all me. Shouldn't I blame myself?" She looked sharply at Faramir. "It seems a clear answer to me." Her eyes found Eowyn again. "Especially when I relished every scream that I ripped from his throat. I delighted in each drop of blood I spilt."

She felt drained, but wouldn't show it, not now. She pushed herself to her feet, and flashed her eyes at Eomer, his stunned sister and her love. Selanae left the hall. The drunken laughter of the King of Gondor and his guests followed her back to her room.


	20. Distance to Breathe

**a/n:** Enjoy! Sorry, it took me awhile to get this to a decent point. Please review! I'll post a longer chapter in a few days.**  
**

**Distance** **to** **Breathe**

She hadn't slept yet. She didn't plan to. Outside, it was still, except for a faint wind that blew the tapestries on her room's walls. Any late merriment from the dining hall faded hours ago. Eomer hadn't come after her, not that she wanted him to.

Really.

He certainly wouldn't, not after what she said.

It was during that fiery, defiant speech to Eowyn that Selanae discovered what had been bothering her. Eomer thought it was guilt. She herself thought so for awhile. But what she felt went further.

Selanae latched a cloak around her and covered her head with the hood. She held her sheathed sword in hand, with a small pack of clothing and essentials. She moved to the window, but turned back to face the door.

Her eyes moved over the door, knowing what type of life lay on the other side. Since she'd met Eomer and those around him, she had been happier, in an odd way. She felt more complete, satisfied with life.

She turned back to the window, and climbed through it.

As she stole a horse from the stables and led it out by hand, her eyes wandered over the city. Each tier was beautiful, but grew more common as she neared the city gates. But it held a loving air, one that she knew Aragorn would nourish as king. He would bring peace and stability to the land.

Eomer would too, for Rohan. Selanae thought there would be harder adjustments for him, but he would succeed. It was part of his character.

And she now turned to life before the war. She knew her mysterious past, and now she would try to control it. Alone. It was better that way. Memories, temptations, disappointments—they all waited for her if she stayed. No, she would stay away now, from anyone. She knew what she was capable of.

She'd fallen before, years ago. Sure, she escaped Mordor. But being at the Black Gate with the Mouth, Sauron, and ever-present evil showed her that she could fall again.

And she had. Only to redeem herself at the last moment.

What no one knew was how she struggled there, inside that dark tower. Fragmented memories flooded her mind there, along with a dark, seething pleasure. She enjoyed torment. She excelled at it. It would have been so easy to forget herself and kill Eomer.

She wouldn't risk that again. Trust wasn't something she granted to many people, and certainly not herself.

The guards at the final gate of Minas Tirith regarded her with caution. She nodded to them, as if she knew them, and they her. After a moment of silent inspection, they opened the gate for her to leave.

Selanae led the horse outside the gate. Immediately, a surge of wind hit her. It was freedom again. But not innocence.

She mounted the horse, much more gracefully than in times past. With a glance over her shoulder, she said a mental goodbye to the city and the people she knew there. She faced the open fields of Pelennor, and gave a nudge to her horse.

She rode away, her cloak rippling in the wind as the horse carried her in a new direction.

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Legolas shook his head. Humans were so irrational. They ran away, played mind games, tortured themselves, etc, etc. But that didn't stop him from being concerned.

He followed after Selanae, staying a good distance behind her. He wanted to see if she'd turn back, realizing she couldn't run forever.

But she didn't. And she didn't seem to know he was behind her. Not until mid-morning, when she happened to look back at just the right angle.

She froze, and then bowed her head guiltily. Legolas smiled and spurred his horse forward.

"I was wondering when you'd discover me," he said lightly. Selanae offered a weak smile. She halted her horse and dismounted. Legolas followed her with his eyes as she made her way to a large boulder near the forest line. She sighed heavily.

"Did Eomer send you?" she asked. She sat up straight, her cloak's hood back and revealing her brown hair and sad eyes. Legolas shook his head.

"He doesn't know you're gone," he said, taking a seat next to her. "Did you have a quarrel?"

She shook her head. "Not really—more of a disagreement."

"About what?"

She hesitated to answer, choosing instead to stare at the trees. But Legolas said nothing. He waited till she was ready.

"About me," she whispered. The elf nodded. He didn't really understand what she meant exactly, but he could guess. Either way, it meant something.

"You know he cares for you, dearly," Legloas blurted out. He prayed Eomer wouldn't figure out he'd said that; the pride of that King of Rohan made him quick to anger. Besides, caring for someone wasn't anything to be ashamed of.

Even so, Selanae's cheeks took on a slightly rosy color. Legolas grinned.

"You didn't know?" the elf asked playfully. She shook her head.

"I . . ." She shook her head again. "It doesn't matter. He'd be safer if I'm not around."

Legolas frowned. "Safer from what?"

"From me."

He'd seen her in action enough to know that Selanae could be dangerous. But her heart and conscience would never allow her skills to be used evilly. She'd tried to not get involved in the war, but she was an integral part. Within her actions, though maybe outwardly cold, was a certain humanity.

"What are you afraid of?" he asked her softly. Selanae shook her head, and stared off, thinking.

Suddenly something caught Legolas's eye. His sharp vision penetrated the forest. Something was moving, quickly, stealthily. His eyes darted back and forth, tracking the movement and looking for anymore.

And there were more.

"Selanae, we need to leave."

"Legolas, I can't go--"

She didn't finish her sentence. Suddenly, the woman and the elf were under attack, swarmed as men roared and surrounded them.


	21. Leverage

**a/n: **A short one again, but I hope you enjoy it. I'll need a few days for the next chapter, but reviews help remind me to get cracking on it. Thanks!

**Leverage **

"When did she leave?" Aragorn asked.

Eomer shook his head and ran a hand through his tangled mess of hair.

"The guard reported someone leaving two hours before dawn," he said. He clenched his fists and sighed a long breath. "I should have . . ."

Aragorn watched his friend shake his head again.

"What happened?" the Ranger asked. Eomer immediately looked up, guilty. He sighed again, and started to pace back and forth.

"She hasn't been the same since Mordor," Eomer said. He fiddled with his hands, bringing one to his mouth where he chewed at his nails. "I know she endured a lot. Last night, Eowyn said something out of turn. . . . Selanae left after that."

The younger man muttered something under his breath about Eowyn. Aragorn bit back a smile.

"Perhaps she just needed some time," Aragorn offered. It was a weak attempt, he knew, but it wouldn't be the only thing he would say.

"She thinks running away is the answer to everything!" Eomer said, throwing his arms in the air. He immediately hissed, wincing at a pain in his shoulder. Aragorn again had to bite back a grin.

"While anger and confrontation are your answers," he chided. Eomer sent a glare his way, but relented with a sigh. "What do you think we should do?"

Another sigh, and Eomer ran his hands again through his hair. "I confess, I don't know. I thought I understood her, but . . . Aragorn, I want her back." He didn't just mean getting her back to Gondor. Long had Aragorn seen Eomer's feelings for Selanae. But the lady in question was indeed harder to decipher.

Aragorn cleared his throat. "The war is over, but the lands aren't safe. Selanae can defend herself, but she's chosen a tumultuous time to leave on her own." Eomer's body was tense, waiting for clarification. "I think it wise if you go after her."

Eomer might as well have leapt for joy. He well could have decided on his own, but the new king needed assurance. Aragorn identified with that clearly, though he tried not to show his nervousness as much.

"Don't go alone, Eomer," Aragorn warned. "As marshall you had no reason to fear, but as King, you cannot go about so freely."

Eomer sighed, but nodded. "A disappointment to both kings," he said with a sad smile. Aragorn nodded.

"Corsairs!" a new, light voice said in a panic. The kings whirled around to see Legolas. "They've taken Selanae!"

Legolas looked out of breath, his hair slightly messy. Aragorn felt dread in his heart.

"What? Where!" Eomer demanded. Legolas swallowed and drew a breath.

"South of here. They mean to use her as leverage," Legolas said, flickering a worried glance to Aragorn, "in exchange for Gondor."

"What!" Eomer exclaimed. He turned to face Aragorn, who sadly did not look as surprised. "Aragorn?"

The king of Gondor sighed. "The Corsairs are fighting for their survival. We killed most of them before Pelennor."

Eomer swallowed, understanding. "Selanae is their guarantee." He turned on one heel to leave.

"Eomer!" Aragorn called out.

"I will find her, Aragorn, and I will get her back!"

"This is not about Rohan. The Corsairs—"

Eomer swiveled around, his eyes flashing and his skin flushed. "The Corsairs took Selanae, and so they will die!"

The ranger stepped softly towards Eomer, his eyes kind but concerned.

"You cannot go, Eomer. This is Gondor's business."

Those eyes flashed again with seething rage. "This is Selanae's life! It is not business, it is the woman I hold dearer than anyone!" Eomer looked sharply at the floor, having just heard hat he uttered. "By right, it is me who should go."

The two kings stared at each other, hope, despair, anguish being born to one another. It was Legolas who stepped in.

"I'll go with him," he said, looking at Aragorn. "Gondor needs to be strengthened, in case the Corsairs attack."

Eomer turned to the elf. Silently, he nodded.

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The Corsairs, whoever they were, moved her quickly across the land. Selanae's hands were tied behind her back, and she was made to run with her captors. Their pace was hurried, no doubt because of their crime.

They seemed excited to have her in their captivity. Selanae didn't know why, other than what she sensed—they would use her for some purpose.

It wasn't long before a sparkling jewel appeared on the horizon. Selanae gasped as she saw the sea. A ship awaited, not massive but large enough to easily carry 60 men. They roared and scurried about, and with each step closer, Selanae knew she faced more and more danger.

Her face was impassive. As much as she hated being restrained, she accepted what was happening. It was just as well, for now.

It's not like she had any better fate in store.

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"South," Legolas said, nodding at Eomer. Both stood quickly from their crouch in the mud and mounted their horses. The tracks were faint because of the rain, but also ran deep for the same reason.

Eomer was grateful that the elf came along with him. He probably should have taken more than a dozen men, but Eomer wanted this task to be his. He would find Selanae, he would cut down the Corsairs, and he would make Selanae understand that he didn't and never would blame her.

He left Eowyn in Minas Tirith to oversee any matters concerning Rohan (and to be with her fiancé), and Eothain could definitely help her if needed. Perhaps it was foolish of him to leave so rashly, especially as a new king to a recovering land.

Rohan had a long road to follow. Too long had it been held hostage by Sauron's influence. Rebuilding the lands, the cities, getting food ready for the rest of the year . . . he had a lot of work to do. His entire people now depended on him. As awesome a responsibility that was, he still had to leave.

Selanae mattered more.

"Your mind is heavy," Legolas observed without glancing at the young king. Eomer sighed in response, but nodded. "It's not because of you that she ran in the first place."

Eomer shifted suddenly in his saddle.

"What do you mean?"

Legolas' expression was even and almost nonchalant. "Something bothers her. It's from herself that she runs. But when she reconciles the problem, all will be well."

Eomer blinked at the elf.

"Was that really an explanation?"

Legolas smiled. "A vague one." He whispered something to his horse, and it picked up pace. "We should hurry. They're not far."


	22. Something in the Dark

**a/n:** Sorry this took awhile. I'll try to be quick for the next chapter—maybe even tomorrow or so if things go the way I plan. Thanks for your patience!

**Something In the Dark**

The thin, short man with dark goatee looked half-asleep. It wasn't weariness, though, despite the late hour. Something about his tone, the way he carried himself, and overall presence proclaimed he was the leader. The captain. Those half-closed, sleepy eyes seemed more like indifference.

She sat on the deck, tied with her hands behind her back and around a secondary mast. Her belongings lay at the captain's feet, her sword among them. He didn't raise an eyebrow and look at her curiously, as most would. Part of her had to respect that.

But she didn't respect him. She held few in such regard.

"You're from Gondor," the captain stated. Selanae answered with a shrug.

"Perhaps." She couldn't remember that detail, not that she wanted to anymore. Memory was a curse.

"My scouts have seen you in the company of that Ranger," he continued. There was a slight rise in his tone at the mention of Aragorn, but he leveled out. "You will be missed."

Selanae sighed. "Possibly. Could you please reach your point?"

The captain almost grinned at that, the most lively thing she'd seen from him yet.

"They will want you back."

Selanae didn't react, though she knew what he wanted now.

"Ransom?" she asked. "And what is my life worth?"

The captain's smile showed true and through to his eyes. "Gondor."

Selanae mirrored his smile. "Gondor. I expect I'll be held for some time then." The captain chuckled, drawing laughter from his men who watched on.

"They will do what we want," he said, "or they'll mourn over your dead body." All laughter stopped and was replaced with fierce, intimidating stares. The way it seemed orchestrated almost made Selanae laugh. She settled on her own indifference to the situation.

"They'll get over it quickly," she said, glancing away and up at the sky.

She didn't pay attention to much after that. The stars were out, lighting the sky quite brilliantly, especially since they were out at sea. They weren't far from shore; she could make out the line of the mountains. She wondered if she'd been out here before. It was very different from anything else she remembered. Gondor had its white stone and civilized cities. Rohan had its hills and plains. She wasn't sure which land she preferred . . . .

_"You know he cares for you dearly_."

Selanae blinked and sat up straighter against the mast. Where had that come from? She sighed. It'd been in the back of her mind since Legolas found her. She knew he was right—Eomer did care for her.

_But as a sister, or as a heroine._ Not as who she really was. _And you know who you are?_

She clenched her teeth together and stared out at the coastline. Selanae knew what she was capable of, and that was enough. Regardless of how she felt for Eomer—

She froze.

Something caught in her throat.

Horror.

Brutal honesty.

Fear.

_What do I feel for Eomer?_ The question itself pointed towards her answer. The fear and horror returned, and Selanae had to swallow several times to calm her stomach.

_Eomer._

She shut her eyes, seeing him immediately in her mind. His tall, stalwart frame, that eyes blazing with daring and determination. His hair in his face and wind-tossed as always. And that passion, about everything. There was no half-way with Eomer. It was all or nothing.

The image in her mind changed to that fear she saw, not in the tower this time, but how she imagined he looked when he discovered she was kidnapped. She knew it was presumptuous, but that didn't stop her.

Selanae shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She scolded herself and her weakness. Nothing mattered right now. She would have to see what happened next.

She found herself hoping Eomer would take part in whatever future lie ahead.

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They should have found her by now. Eomer's fists clutched the reigns tightly. His knuckles were almost sore from the tension.

"She _was_ here," Legolas said, studying the ground before the sandy beach. "But the sand changes. It's difficult to track."

Eomer sighed, and looked out over the ocean. As beautiful as it was, he had no time to admire it. His instinct urged him to hurry.

He dismounted, and led his horse forward over the sand. "Let's go this way," Eomer started. His men followed. He glanced to see that Legolas followed as well. The elf did, but his eyes were turned seaward. Elves favored the sea, but Legolas had assured Eomer that he would be fine. Eomer held onto that as if an oath.

"Where they are won't leave tracks in the sand," Legolas said. Eomer rolled his eyes.

"Is that your cryptic way of telling me they're on a ship?" he asked, flustered. "Because they _are_ Corsairs. Some things are just known."

The elf smiled in spite of his frustration, and Eomer realized he should calm himself. He sighed, and nodded for the elf to continue.

"You truly care for her," Legolas said with a grin.

"You're just now discovering this?" the king of Rohan inquired with a raised eyebrow. Legolas looked away but the smile was still there.

He pointed up at the rocky hills. "We'll follow the coast from up there. We might be able to move further than they if the wind is against them."

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It took until the next afternoon, but they spotted a ship. Eomer, his men, and Legolas quickly dismounted their horses, and laid low to the ground. There was no sense in standing out, not now.

"What do you see?" Eomer asked. His eyes stared ahead, only making out the ship enough to know it was the Corsairs. Legolas slowly smiled.

"She's there," he said. "Along with at least 50 Corsairs." He turned on his side to face Eomer. "Any ideas?"

Eomer pursed his lips together with a scowl. He glanced to the elf and then back at the ship.

It took several minutes, but Eomer began to smile. Legolas raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," Eomer said. "I have an idea."


	23. Waves

**A/n:** I'm so sorry this took so long—work, you know. Anyway, please read and review!

**Waves**

Selanae stared out over the gentle waves. They lapped at the boat—she could hear the waves each time they rocked the hull. The sky was a brilliant blue. The sun shone as if there was every reason in the world to be cheerful.

Behind her, the captain of the Corsair ship kicked at her hip. He rounded the mast she was tied to, and faced her with the same lifelessness that he always had. His eyes were lazily gazing at her.

She sighed and returned the stare.

"What?" she asked. He grinned at her, not threatening or baring his teeth to scare her. But his eyes were amused.

"Will you hate them if they don't come for you?" he asked. "Gondor, your friends . . . if they give you up, will you haunt them when you're dead?"

Selanae casually raised an eyebrow. "No. But you, yes."

He laughed and shook his head. The captain turned out seaward.

"Well now . . . ."

Selanae looked up. The captain stared off across the ocean, towards shore. She frowned when she saw what held his attention.

It was a woman, with golden hair. _A woman of Rohan?_ The captain grinned, and his men joined him near the ship's side. Excited murmurs rose from the sailors, and the captain himself seemed thrilled.

"Bring us closer to shore."

Selanae rolled her eyes at the men. How stupid they were, and vulgar. She had no doubts as to what they had in mind for the blond maiden on the shore.

_What's she doing out here, all alone?_ Selanae squinted to see her. She seemed to be gathering something from the shore. _Food?__ Wood?_

The ship traversed over shallow waters, nearing gigantic boulders that sat beneath the cliffs and in the water itself. The maiden looked up from her gathering, and showed panic. She began running along the coast. The ship followed, with ruckus laughter echoing over the water from the Corsairs.

Selanae pulled at her restraints. She didn't care too much what happened to the woman, but she wouldn't just let the Corsairs have their way. Her wrists stung from the strain she placed on the bindings.

And suddenly, she stilled. Her eyes fixated on the maiden. There was something odd about her . . . .

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The ship drew closer.

Closer.

_Just a bit closer_. Eomer watched, biting hard on his lip. He grew impatient, but the moment was drawing near.

He watched Legolas saunter about in fake panic on the beach. The dress the elf wore brought a smile to Eomer's face, but he forced it back. He'd promised not to tease the elf for it, not when Legolas was helping with this ruse as a woman.

Legolas made a show of panicking, stumbling purposely over the rocky and sandy beach. He shot a glare at Eomer, but it quickly passed as the shouts from the Corsairs sounded over the water.

Eomer's muscles tensed. His hands grasped the large boulder he hid behind. It sat in water, as did Eomer. All he had to do was wait just a little bit longer . . .

The ship slowed to a stop as the water became too shallow. The crew aboard started to lower a small row boat. Eomer glanced over himself. He shed any armor he'd worn, and was left only in his tunic and pants. He tightened his belt with his sword and scabbard attached. He rolled his ankle slightly as well, feeling his dagger there. Those were the only weapons he had for this.

Eomer drew a deep breath and circled around the boulder. He peeked around it. The small row boat was filled with Corsairs, all shouting at Legolas. The main ship still held at least forty or fifty men, but that was all right. Eomer glanced at the cliffs above, his eyes finding a specific nook in the rocks. He saw his men there, and he gave them a nod before submerging himself in the water.

It stung at his eyes. Eomer grimaced slightly at the discomfort. He swam further beneath the surface and out to sea. The water was very clear, and it wouldn't do to be seen. Even so, Eomer had to come up for air. He made it behind another boulder to do so. The water trickled down his face. He swiped at it and checked everyone's position.

He grinned, and quietly dove beneath the water. The weight of his sword pulled on his left side, but he just stroked harder. His lungs constricted tightly, the air running out. _Just a bit further_.

He came up in the middle of the water, with no cover. Eomer knew he had to at some point, but he kept his head barely above the water level. The ship was another stretch away. He glanced back at the shore and nodded to his men. With a deep breath, he swam beneath the water to the ship.

The noise of men's shouts could be heard as he came up by the ship. Eomer grinned. His men were firing arrows from the shore. Legolas discarded the feminine garb to reveal his normal clothing, and already he was firing rapidly.

Eomer swam around to the seaward side of the ship. Short planks of wood were nailed to the side as a makeshift ladder, and Eomer took advantage of it. He climbed quietly,

He peeked over the side. Corsairs were running about, their weapons drawn and returning fire. At least fifteen were dead, their bodies getting in the way of the living. Eomer scanned the rest of the ship. _Where is Selanae?_

_There!_ At one mast of the ship, Selanae sat on the deck, her arms tied around the wood. She sat up straight, her posture alert and her eyes looking at the shore.

And suddenly she looked away, and around the ship. Her eyes narrowed, moving from the panicking Corsairs to the deck, and then—

Their eyes met. Her eyes lit up. She pulled at her bonds, and for a moment Eomer lost himself. She was _glad_ to see him!

_Of course she is—she's been kidnapped by the damn Corsairs!_

Eomer glanced away, trying to compose himself. This was a battle, and how he felt for Selanae had no place. There were still too many Corsairs to take on himself. But Selanae looked all right . . . all he had to do was get to her.

Eomer pulled himself aboard. His clothes dripped heavily with seawater, and he was pretty sure his scabbard was water-logged as well, but that didn't matter. A Corsair yelled in alarm. He charged at Eomer, yelling the whole time. Eomer quickly drew his sword and blocked a blow. He pivoted and slashed the man's chest.

Eomer ran towards Selanae. Another Corsair came at him. Eomer didn't slow down, but went to his knees. He slid across the deck and wielded his sword over his head. It caught the Corsair's thigh. The Rohan king stopped right at the mast. Selanae's eyes were wide, and constantly looking behind him.

"Hurry," she said curtly. Eomer frowned. He grabbed his dagger and sliced through the ropes around her wrists.

"A little bit of appreciation would be nice," he muttered. She just grinned at him. Eomer shook his head and tossed her the dagger, which she caught despite her raw wrists.

"What's the plan?" she asked, readying herself for a Corsair's attack. Eomer shrugged.

"Get off the ship," he said. "Preferably alive." He caught her bewildered look and just laughed.

They fought through a mass of Corsairs, with each cut and charge getting closer to the side of the ship. Eomer stabbed through one man, and looked past him at the shore. He could see a few injured of his dozen men, but the Corsairs' casualties were greater by far. Those in the row boat were all killed, and only twenty or so remained on the ship.

But they were still threats. Three charged Eomer at once. He stumbled from their force. He warded off their blows quickly, one after the other, but three on one wasn't the best scenario.

"Eomer!" He glanced at Selanae, who was poised to jump overboard. Eomer kicked at one of the men's feet and swatted away another's blade. Quickly he took three steps to the side and leapt over.

Air rushed by them, rippling his wet clothes. And then a great splash sounded as Selanae and Eomer fell deep below the water. Tiny air bubbles crawled over his skin as he continued to sink, and then slowly buoy to the surface. He broke the water's surface with a deep gasp for air.

Selanae came up a moment after him.

"Hurry!" he said. He swam a bit awkwardly with the sword in his hand, but he wasn't about to part with it either. Behind him, he heard Selanae swim as well. Suddenly a large splash sounded near them.

Eomer turned as someone came to the surface. It was the apparent captain of the ship. He swam madly at Selanae, who raised her dagger in some sort of defense. The water, however, was not a stable fighting ground. Eomer felt his heart drop as the captain reached her and simply dove over her, pushing her down with him as they both submerged.

Eomer swam a few strokes back and dove under. The water seemed darker now, but he could see shapes moving, fighting. Selanae struggled to get free, while the captain held her down. Eomer frantically pulled his body through the water. He grabbed Selanae by the shirt and pulled her away. The captain held on, clawing at her and lashing out at Eomer. Eomer seized the captain by his arms, twisting and pulling, anything to get him to release Selanae. Finally, he saw Selanae get free and swim for the surface. Eomer pushed the captain down and followed to the air.

He gasped as he reached the surface. Selanae floated on her back, taking in the air.

"Keep going," he said between breaths. He waved his hand forward, as if that would be clearer. He started to swim after her.

Suddenly something pulled at his legs. Eomer opened his mouth to yell, but it filled with water.

The captain hit Eomer in the stomach. How he managed such a hit in the water, Eomer didn't know, but it hurt. It made him lose what little air he had in his lungs. Eomer stroked for the surface. The captain grabbed at his tunic, pulling him down further. Eomer kicked hard. The captain's grip weakened, but Eomer still was prisoner under the water.

_End this before you drown._ Eomer pushed at the man. They struggled for control, or for freedom from the other's grasp. A hand clawed at Eomer's faced, and somehow he was hit again in the chest.

Eomer started to swallow more water. He gagged and only succeeded in taking in more seawater. His limbs felt heavy, and the captain's fighting seemed overwhelming. Black ink started to fill his vision.

With one last effort, Eomer kicked out. Suddenly, he wasn't held down anymore, and his body floated to the top.

A breeze chilled his face. He knew he could breath, but water filled his mouth and his lungs. He choked on it, and then finally managed to cough it out.

"Eomer!" he heard. Eomer let himself buoy in the water on his side. He rested for a moment before looking to shore. Selanae sat in the water and half on the shore. She looked worried as she waved to him.

Eomer smiled.

"At least she cares," he whispered to himself. He coughed again and glanced behind him. Something was rising to the surface, something limp and unmoving. Eomer's body tensed.

It was the captain. Eomer wasn't sure where he'd kicked the man, but evidently it worked.

Suddenly the seemingly lifeless body moved, splashing about and lunging at Eomer. Eomer raised his arms in defense as the captain brought a dagger at him. Eomer caught the downward blow, but the men struggled against each other. The captain yelled out something unintelligible, and pushed all his weight onto Eomer. The dagger shook in the man's grasp. It touched Eomer's hands, then started to cut into them. Blood spilled, dripping down his arms and into the water.

"Eomer!" he heard Legolas call in panic. "Down!" Eomer frowned, not sure of what he meant.

And then he knew. Eomer gave a burst of energy, pushing the man and the blade up away from him, and Eomer plunged in the water. Through the water's movement, he heard something hiss above him, and then slam into the captain. Eomer saw the captain fall through the water, his eyes wide open and an arrow protruding from his neck.

Eomer kicked up to the surface. His hands stung, but it was a trivial thing right now. He wanted nothing more than to get to shore.

By the time he reached it, the Corsairs, or what was left of them, sailed away as quickly as they could, and without their captain. The soldiers of Rohan cheered and greeted Eomer as he came out of the water, sopping wet and smelling of the sea.

"Sir!" one shouted, running to his side. He glanced around and suddenly a bandage was before him, being wrapped around his hands. His men circled him, a bit protectively.

"Are you well, sire?" one asked. He felt like he was a child being tended by a group of mothers.

"Yes, yes," he said, pushing past them. Selanae stood by Legolas, her face alight as she watched the scene.

"Still getting used to being king?" she asked. He shot a glare at her.

"I rescue you, and you mock me?" he replied. Despite it though, he was glad she was so friendly. Their last meeting hadn't been cheerful by any means.

She grinned at him, and Eomer felt his heart flutter.

"Better than me torturing you," she said. But it wasn't blaming this time, as she was keen to do to herself before. She gave a short nod to him and then turned to Legolas. "By the way . . . Legolas, was that you dressed as a woman?"

Eomer lost it. He roared with laughter, his men joining in and the elf turning red right to the point of his ears. Selanae laughed along with them.

"Come," Legolas said with a slight huff. "Aragorn will be worried."

It would be a long journey back for the elf.


	24. Not So Much a Sacrifice

**a/n**: Someone asked how Legolas got away back when the Corsairs first attacked him and Selanae. They let him go, so Gondor would know their demands—Selanae for Gondor. That was always my thinking anyway, but sorry if it didn't get across. And now the chapter . . . .

**Not so much a sacrifice**

There were simply too many people around. First, the soldiers on the journey back to Minas Tirith. And now, at Aragorn's court. Thankfully, Eowyn kept her distance. Selanae figured she scared the woman last time. At least she didn't have to deal with that yet.

But the hobbits, Arwen, Gimli . . . they all fawned over her, and she hated it! Even Aragorn was outwardly relieved—he asked about a dozen times if she was all right.

A feast began before she could even process her return to Gondor. The laughter began immediately as the hobbits chattered. Selanae was dressed in a stormy gray gown, something she thought was appropriate for her. She sat in the middle of the table, though she might as well have been alone.

She didn't know who to speak with. Eomer was across from her, but speaking with Eowyn. Eothain sat diagonally from her, but they were never close anyway. To her side was one of the hobbits, well on his way to drunkenness, and on her other side—

"You think too much," she heard in her ear. Selanae turned to her side to face Legolas. The elf had been quiet so far, but he smiled sweetly at her. "Remember what we spoke about before the Corsairs came."

She frowned for a moment. She wasn't sure what he meant.

"He cares for you, no matter what," Legolas filled in. She nodded, remembering but not believing. He must have been able to tell. "You're not a danger to him, you know."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure of that?"

The elf chuckled. "Well, a danger that he's willing to risk then." Selanae granted him a smile. "What will you do?"

Selanae sighed. She looked across the table to where Eomer sat, happily conversing with his sister. He was clean and well-groomed for the moment, but part of her couldn't help but prefer the wet, messy warrior that came to her aid at sea. His hands were still bandaged, but he used them as if nothing was wrong.

Before she could answer, Aragorn spoke up above the many conversations going around the table.

"Eomer," he called out. "When do you return to Rohan?"

The new king smiled crookedly. "Trying to get rid of me, Aragorn?" Everyone laughed, and Aragorn along with them.

"The sooner, the better!" he joked back. The crowd roared. Eomer's grin made Selanae stare. Had he always been so cheerful, somewhere inside? Not to mention that he looked so irresistible when he smiled . . .

"Tomorrow, my lord," Eomer said as the laughter died down. Groans followed.

"So soon!" Aragorn asked. Eomer nodded.

"Rohan needs us to return as soon as we can," he said. He looked away, and his eyes found Selanae. She drew a sharp breath as he stared at her. But it was only for a moment. Then he turned to Eothain and began speaking with him.

Selanae smiled sadly to herself, and then raised her chin to Legolas.

"I will move on."

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Dawn came quickly, but Eomer was wide awake. He was well aware of the hour and that he hadn't slept yet. Too much plagued his mind. Part of it was his duties awaiting him in Rohan. How he dreaded those. Never had he wanted such responsibility. But what plagued him more was Selanae.

Somehow the night had passed away and they never were alone to speak. He thought she would come to him, especially since she ran away last. But she never came, nor did she look at him more than once.

He tugged at his armor. The weight of it bothered his shoulder a bit, but it was necessary for such a journey. His hands were mending, and overall Eomer was mending. His heart was the only thing uncertain.

He sighed at the dawn's quiet. Reaching for a sword, a regular soldier's sword since he'd lost his to the sea, Eomer sheathed it and left his room.

His horse waited, already saddled and ready. The Rohirrim knew their king well. But they weren't all ready.

"How long till they're prepared to move out?" Eomer asked Eothain. His second-in-command looked over the men.

"One hour, Eomer King."

Eomer glanced at him sharply. "You're just calling me that to annoy me." Eothain grinned.

"Yes, my lord." With that, he turned and scurried off to hustle the troops. Eomer shook his head.

He walked off through the city, which was mostly asleep despite the noise his men were making. He wandered to the upper tiers, admiring the city. How grand it was. He would miss it, but not as much as his heart yearned to be home. Eomer kept on, finding his way to the gardens.

The new sun hadn't quite penetrated the gardens yet. In the shade of the trees it was cooler. Eomer walked quietly through the grove and sat on a bench in its midst. He shut his eyes as the thoughts flooded him.

_How can I do this? _The future seemed so bleak, even with the Corsairs and Sauron and any enemy defeated. He should be full of hope, feeling strong and undefeated. Rohan needed time to rebuild, sure, but his people were proud and able.

But how would he return, a sole ruler in an old court? He felt alone. Even Eothain, for all his joking, was now apart from him. His ruling position isolated him, and Eomer knew of no way to ease the road ahead.

_There is one person who could help . . ._ He scolded himself for thinking of her. She was asleep, safe in her room and not to be disturbed. He wouldn't change that. It seemed that he had no choice.

Someone was watching him, though. After several moments, Eomer could feel it. He stayed himself and just listened to his instincts.

Suddenly he glanced to the left.

Selanae sat on the ground at the base of a tree. She didn't smile or greet him. She merely stared as he discovered her.

Eomer's heart hardened, but he made himself not react in anyway. He just looked away, back over the gardens.

"Good morning," he mumbled. From the corner of his eye, he saw her nod. Just nod—nothing verbal. Silence hung between them, covering up what at least Eomer wanted to say.

He sighed quietly to himself. How could he do this? How could he leave or be without her? And how could she not care?

_What if she really does care?_ The trouble was that he did not know. Eomer wasn't keen on asking either. But the hour drew near for him to leave . . .

Eomer cleared his throat. He didn't look at her, but finally spoke.

"What are the odds that you would forget everything that's happened between us and come with me to Rohan?" His heart suspended any beats as soon as the words left his mouth. She said nothing for several moments, extending his agony. He glanced sideways at her, then refocused on the garden.

"Forget everything?" she repeated. "Why would I do that?"

His heart hiccuped briefly, and his eyes found the ground. He had her answer.

"If I forgot everything, I wouldn't know you," she continued after the delay. "I don't think I'm willing to lose that."

Eomer gulped and looked to her. She still sat, completely relaxed but cautious about him. He wondered why.

"What _are_ you willing to do?" Eomer tried next.

Selanae shrugged. These cryptic questions, both his own and hers, and then such cryptic responses were driving him crazy. Yet he had one more.

"I'm leaving today, for Rohan," he started. "If you choose to leave as well and go the same direction, I wouldn't mind." Eagerly, he bit his tongue and waited for her response.

"Is that supposed to sway me?" she asked, a laugh in her voice. Eomer frowned and glanced at the ground again. His blood ran swiftly. How much more confusing could this woman be!

Eomer stood abruptly and started to pace the garden. "You are the most frustrating woman alive," he seethed between clenched teeth. His voice rose as he spoke. "I don't know what you want, but I know what I want. I want you with me, always. Obviously I can't force you and since I have no idea what you plan, I—"

"Eomer," Selanae called out, stopping him mid-sentence. His face was flushed, he knew. He didn't care. His body was tense with anger, frustration, and somewhere inside him, a small measure of hope.

"Eomer," she repeated, standing and walking to him. Her eyes locked with his. Eomer waited for her next words.

She just smiled. A breeze swept through the gardens, lightly blowing her hair. It was graceful and beautiful, while for Eomer it just obstructed his view. He swiped at the stray hairs and stared at her.

Slowly, he understood.

And he smiled back.

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a/n: Well, there you have it. Probably not the most elaborate or obvious ending, but I like to leave things to the imagination—you guys can speculate Selanae and Eomer's future as much as you want. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter and whole story. Thanks for reading!


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